Fs
FP
- —
= = 4
—4 .
FF :
4
-
TDs :
: | :
1 .
*
—
—
- * 4
.
—
—
= 2 4 of -
*
0 1
-
.
—
— *
—
*
f *
-
* 9
%
"ZDINBURGH:
t#
A, DonAaLtDSON
-
Dans by R. prinz, for A. Kine arg and.
=
{* * re. * * o
5 » by 4 * e. 2
as -
# ©» * .
N
Fuge aqui the rr; Men K
- eſs on the following, dcn, that they
Il, by the invefiigation of e
it dofigned. to iiluftrate the nature of man, . as
— — lim as the Abe
55 of morality. And as morality ſuppoſes frees
dom of action, this introduces the third eſſay,
wwhich it a diſquifition on liberty and neceſſity.
Theſe make the firſt part of the work. The ret
of the eſſays, uſhered in by that on belief, hang
upon each other. A plan is proſecuted, in fup-
port of the authority of our ſenſes, external and
internal; where it is occafionally ſhown, that
our reaſonings on ſome of the moſt important ſub-
jan reſt utimateh upon ſenſe and feeling, This ©
it illuſtrated, in a variety of inflances; and
from theſe, the author would gladly hope, that
he has thrown new light upon the principles of N |
buman knowledge :-— All to prepare the way,
for a prof of the exiſtence and per feeTions of
the Deity, which is the chief aim in this un-
dertaling.
0
=
7
4
.
7
®*
i
=.
1
„
Ps
—
.
* *
1
=. *
1 *
hs +
4 -
By 4
8
1
R. .
ä * n vo N
* mr Lal n ch |
Sx ha (ror y(t OG d u Ge
Wes VL dnp WA 44 75 2 2 | 9 ne R
"© 0 WA wn "Be W wan e
N e eee > h . a dd
End kia 52 VA IV Mr. A N Wan Þ ve
We aan 7 6 welds : 22
|
Ad wor whack Vow lh os ad orgs
wat an la De ant wants on or
. o”
bun f rn 28 SES * n Wale : 1 TY
en en udn * r * ** N * WN LES
*. A :
— PIR, A SOL > hw. Aa «a 7% vo n 3 1 Ne "LN *
. "3 | i, % * FA 4 4 4 »& ** Y <4 Vs y 4
4 * — Rar
1 1 .
ir 2 » L N 1 Qt 1 % n 98 :
5 * e
*4 * 44s n An
Y 3 0
4 48 5 *. I
V 2 * * 2 8
| WW. .
. 1 y 1 . "I" ;
TY AL Cite ety AM. Aer * £3
ww," 4 1 * ky ICS. %d «I
„ 1 * - Ly
| Paixcirns of Monazery |
| - von "OS: 9] $6
* *
NATURAL RELIGION
| ; | 15
% 3 , a .
s 1 1 +23 =
P |
” -
1 | a * |
| F A R T : I. 1 3
* > 1
g 1 10 4 by as 4 * g
* *
; * 4
4
*
- = *
N »
PL
. < I
* x
* *
* * *
.
. . .
. . 49
.
* *
” - A
*
.
9
* * :
i; . 5 .
,
+.4 *
* U
-
*
-
*
*
= f
— ©
=
%
4
4 4
1
-
*
Ls
5
ꝗ— — ä— — —
—
*
”
Of r ArragkuENr 10 Ozjzcrs
| of DisTRess.
e ED Previck-author; who makes
critical refletions'upon-poetry:and
painting, undertakes a ſubject, at-
tempted by othets unſucceſsfully, which is,
to account for the ſtrong Attachment we
have to Objects of Diſtreſs, not real objects
only, but even fietitious. It is not ea-
of (lays be) to account for the pleaſure
4 take in poetry and painting, which
« has often a ſtrong refemblance'ts afflition,
and of which the ſymptoms are ſometimes
« the mp with thoſe of the moſt lively ſor-
* row. The arts of poetry and painting are
6 e more applauded than when they
« ſucceed in giving pain. A ſecret charm
« attaches us to repreſentations of this na-
« ture, at the very time our heart, full of
11 angoifh, riſes up againft its proper pleaſure. -
- "G9 A « I dare
2 ATTACHMENT TO
I dare undertake this paradox, (continues
« our author) and to explain the foundation
40 of this ſort of pleaſurewhich we have in po-
4e etry an inting; an undertaking that may
. appear bold, if not raſh, ſecing, it promiſes
* to account to every man for what paſſes in
« his ownbreaſt, and for the ſecret ſprings of
his approbation and'diflike.” Our author
is extremely ſenſible of the difficulty of his
fübject; and no wonder, 2297 1 has 1 8
| Foundatioh.i in human nature.
28 81 ern
4
. us follow him indhis difficult under-
Ws He lays it dowp as a preliminary,
that our wants and neceſlities are our only =
motives to action, and that in relieving us ,
from them conſiſts all natural pleaſure; and
in this, byt the way, he agrees with Mr. Locke
in his chapter of Power, ſei. 37. and 43.
This account of our natural pleaſures ſhall
be afterwards examined... What we have at
preſent to attend to, is the following funda-
—
mental propoſition laid down by our author:
„
„
0 That man by nature is deſigned an active
we 66 dang;
a= {i *
| OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. - 3
i being: that inaction, whether of body or
“ mind, draws on languor and diſguſt ;. and
1 that this is. a cogent mative to fly to any
.* ſort of occupation for relief. Thus (adds
be) we fly by inſtinct to every object that
can excite our paſſions, and keep us in agi-
tation, not rebuted by the pain ſuch objects
e often give us, which: cauſes vexatious days
3% and ſleepleſs nights: but man, notwith-
i ſtanding, ſuffers more by being without
N * paſſions, than by the agitation they occaſi-
% on. This is the ſum of his firſt ſection.
In the ſecond he goes on to apply his prin-
_ciple to particular caſes. The firſt he gives is
that of compaſſion, whereby we are natu-
rally impelled to dwell upon the miſeries
and diſtreſſes of our fellow creatures, though
thereby we come to be partakers of their ſuf-
ferings; an impulſe that he obſerves is en-
tirely owing to the above principle, which
makes us chuſe occupation, however painful,
rather than be without action. Another is
that of publick executions. We go in
* n (ſays he) to à ſpectacle the moſt
it” 88 „ horrid
4 "ATTACHMENT TO
i N 8
4 A or this „un m our! e re
0 dreadful the ſcene, the more numerous
the ſpeQators;” Yet one might" foreſee,
* even without experience, that cho cruel
| « circumſtances of the execution, che deep
_ < groans and anguiſh of 2 fellow creature,
« muſt make an impieſſion, the pain of
. which is not to be effaced but by a long
10 courſe of time. But the attraction of agi-
« Narr forces ſtrong upon molt people,
& than the joint powers, of reflection and
, experience. | He goes on to mention
the ſtrange delight the, Roman people had
in the entertainments of the amphiche-
atre; criminals expoſed to be torn to pieces
by wild beaſts, and gladiators in troops ſet out
to butcher one another. He takes this occa-
ſion ta make the following obſervation 1 upon
the Engliſh nation: © 80 tender hearted is
„that people, that they obſerve. humanity
towards their greateſt criminals. They al-
18 a 0 fuch ching as toxture, alledging
1 N
OBJECTS OF DisrRRESs. 5
o it better to let a criminal go unpuniſhed,
« than to expoſe an innocent perſon to thoſe |
«.rorments which are authoriſed in other
« Chrriſttan countries to extort a confeſſion
from the guilty. Yet this people, ſo reſpe&-
0 22 ir kind, have an infinite epleaſure in
fighting, bull- beating, and flach other
40 *. ſpectacles.” He concludes, with
ſhowing, chat it is this vety horror of ĩnac-
non, which makes people every day precipt-
rite themſelves into play, and deliver tem-
ſelves over to cards and dice. * None bur
* fools and märpers (fays he) are moved to
«wt play by hope of gain. The general
of mankind are directed by another mo-
<«"tive." They neg lect thoſe diverſions Where
% Skill and addreſs are Fauired) chuſing ra ra-
"ther to riſque thelr fortunes at games of
& mere Ehance, which Keep their minds 3 in
Sh 4 © 4
955 Vin OFT
* 16 deciſibe. 8 |
| "Pars i is M author' 8 account X — mat-
| ter fairly ſtated. It bas, 1 acknowledge, an
air of truth, but the following conſiderati-
ons
2
ATTACHMENT 10
| ons'convince me that-is not olid. Jn, the
* Gf firſt place, if the pain. of inaQtion be the mo-
7 carries us to lach ſpectacles as
are aboue mentioned, we muſt expeſt to find
them frequented. by none but thoſe who
are 52 with idleneſs. But this will not
be found the truth of the matter. All ſorts
i of people flack | to ſuch ſpectaeles. Piqures
of danger, or of diſtreſs, have a ſecret charm
which: attracts men from the moſt ſerious
occupations, and operates equally upon the
active and the indolent. In the next place,
were there nothing in theſe, ſpectacles to
attract the mind, abſtracting from the pain
of inaction, there would be no ſuch thing
as a preference of one object to another,
upon any other ground than that of agi-
tation; and the more the mind was agi-
rated, the greater would be the attraction of
the object: but this is contrary to experience.
There are many objects of horror and diſ-
taſte, which agitate the mind exceedingly, that
even the idleſt fly from: and a more apt in-
"ſtance need not be given, than what our au-
ww AAA ALI, e VF nk a, 3 be fd E833 36 thor
-
.
ofs OF'DISTRESS. 5.
thor himſelf cites from Livy, I who, ſpeak-
ing of Antiochus Epiphanes, has the follow
ing words: Gladiatorum munus Roman can-
fuetudinis primò majore cum terrore hominum
inſuelorum ad tale ſpatatulum, quam volup-
ate dedit. Deinds ſapiùs dandb, et familia-
re oculis gratumpue id Hhectaculum fecit, et ar-
morum ftudium - pleriſque- juvenum accendit.
Such bloody ſpectacles behoved undoubtedly
to make, at firſt, a greater impreſſion than af-
terwards, when by repetition they were ren-
dered familiar: yet this circumſtance Was ſo
far from being an attraction to the Grecians,
that it raiſed in them averſion and horror.
Upon the ſame account, the Bear- gaiden,
which is one of the chief entertainments of
the Engliſh, is held in abhorrence by the
French, and other polite nations. It is too
favage an ee eee to de een *
| . e refined taſte." e DONG). þ
12 man is conſiders as a being, whoſe
| only view, in all his actions, | is either to at-
arr ei e alf 25 * tain
4 Lib. 41.
# - ATTACHMENT d
I ralo-pleafire; opc avoid pain, we mult con;
_ chadt:ileafurc:and:pain! to he his only im-
pulſea io action. Upon that ſuppoſitian, ir
would. be hard. if not impoſlible, to gie an
ſaixfoery; account: why we, ſhould chuſe,
ba JEN: te frequent men
man nature, we diſoover muy and, various
impulſes to action, independent of pleaſure
and pain. Let us follow out this thought,
| 5 ee |
et Weil
13-541 750 if 1:43
| ee Ab" 2
E by external objects, or to any of our impreſs,
ſions, we find fe of them ſo ſimple as to
be altogether without modification. Im-
preſſions are either ſtrong) or weak, diſtin: |
or confuſed, &c. There is no diviſiem of im+
prefſions more comprehenſive than into a-
greeable or difagzeeable. Some flight .im-
preſſions there may be, which give us little
add . or pain: but theſe may be
_
„
' 8 .
4
4
3 Y *
$1
=_,
=
|
11
'
i
.
*
.
_
=
1
1
ö
?
1
11
*
1
=
_ N
OBIECTS OF DISTRESS.
9
negleRed in the preſent inquiry, The bulk
of our impreſſions may certainly be diſtin-
guiſhed into pleaſant and painful. It is un-
neceſſary, and would perhaps be in vain, to
ſearch for the cauſe of this difference a-
mong our impreſſions. More we cannot ſay
than that ſuch ĩs the conſtitution of our na-
ture ſo contrived by the Author of all things,
in . to 1 "wy yu you Fre.
aid. 1
An ban! is — e to be at-
tended to in theſe impreſſions; that Defire
enters into ſome of them, Averſion into others.
With regard to ſome objects, we feel a deſire
of poſfeſſing and enjoying them: other ob-
jects raiſe our averſion, and move us to avoid
them. At the ſame time, deſire and averſion
ate not ſeparate impreſſions, but modificati-
ons only; each making a part of the total im-
preſſion, raiſed by the agreeable, or diſagree-
able object. The pleaſure, for example, of a
fine garden, and the deſire of poſſeſling it, are
not different impreſſions, but only parts of that
entire impreſſion which ĩs cauſed by the object.
"4 B | The
10 * NTTACHMENT 'FO''
The impreſſion made by any object is one,
tho it may be annalized into parts. Ic does
not belong to the preſent ſubject, to inquire
in wharinſtarices Deſire is raiſed by agreeable
objects; for deſire does not accompany a:
greecable impreſſions in every inſtanoe: but
it muſt be carefully attended to, that Aver ·
ſion does not make a part, or enter into the
compoſitionof every painful impreſſion. Ob-
jects of horror and terror, loathſome ob-
there are many impreſſions, ſome of tham
gree of averſion in their compoſition. Grief
is a moſt painful paſſion or impreſſion, and
yet is the fartheſt, of any thing from being
mird with any: degree of averſion. On
te contrary, we cling to the object which
. Fiſts our grief, and love to dwell upon it.
Compaſſion is an inſtance of the like nature.
ObjeRs of diſtreſs raiſe. no averſion in us,
tho they give us pain. Deſire always makes
2 part of the impreſſion, deſire to afford re-
ad Iv | In
OBJECTS OF DI STRESS. 11
— x infancy, appetite and paſſion, and the
deſires and averſions accompanying them,
ate our ſole impulſes to action. But in the
progroſs of life, hen we learn to diſtin-
guiſn the objects around us as contributing
to pleaſure or pain, we acquire, by degrees,
impulſes to action of a different ſort. Self-
love is a ſtrong motive to ſearch about for
every thing that may conduce to happineſs.
Self· love operates by means of reflection
and experience; and every object, ſo ſoon
as diſcovered to contribute to our happineſs,
raiſes of courſe a deſire of poſſeſſing . Hence
t is chat pleaſure and pain are the only mo-
tives to action, ſo far as ſelf· love is eoncern-
ed. But our appetites and affections, as a-
dove explained, are very difſerent in their
nature. Theſe operate by direct impulſe,
vlthout the intervention of reaſon; and an-
ſwer to What is called inftin@ in briite cren -
tures. As they are not influenced by any
ſort of reaſoning, che view of ſhuhning mi-
ſery, or acquiring happineſs, makes no part
of the impulſive cauſe, It is true that · the
N 7 a f . | gra-
— —— — — —
.
ta {ATTACHMENT TO
gratification of our aſſections / and appetites
is for the moſt part attended with pleaſure;
and it is alſo true, that, in giving way to a
particular appetite, the view of pleaſure: may,
by a reflex act, become an additional motive
td che action. But theſe things muſt not be
. confounded with the direct impulſe ariſing
from the appetite or affection, which, as I
| have ſaid, operates blindly, and in the way
of een __— 0 view to conſequen-
i ces. "i „ 54 Same elta.
eee r W Ane n
Ap to * che diſtinction bete ix
actions directed by ſelf-· love, and actions di-
rected by particular appetites and paſſions, it
muſt be further remarked, that though, for
the moſt part, pleaſure is the conſequence of
indulging appetites and paſſions, it is not ne-
ceſſarily, nor indeed univerſally ſa. If che lat
ter be made out, the former will be evident;
becauſe there cannot be a neceſſary connee-
tion betwixt two things, which are in ſome
Inſtances ſeparated. That pleaſure is not al-
n the conſequence of indulging our ap-
peũites
r . STR EE 6 C —rKö et oe —
— 1 * 0 . 0 a . * * * - 4
7 1 4 e e
CT * 0
OBJECTS” OF/DISTRESS. 13
petites and paſſions, will be plain from indue-
non. Revenge gratified againſt the man we
hate is attended with pleaſure. - Tis a very
different caſe, where we have taken offence
at a man we love. Friendſhip will not allows
me, however offended; to hurt my friend.
E..T:cannot find in my heart to do him miſ-
chief; but I would have him made ſenſible
of the wrong he has done me.” Revenge;
thus denied a vent, recoils and preys upon
the vitals of the perſon offended. It diſplayt
itſelf in peeviſhneſs and bad humour, which
muſt work and ferment, till time, or ac-
knowledgment of the wrong, carry it off.
This ſort of revenge is turned againſt the
man himſelf who is offended; and examples
there are of perſons. in this pettiſh humoun,
working great miſchief to themſelves, in order
to make the offenders ſenſible of the wrong.
Thus, nothing is more common than to find
a young woman, diſappointed i in love, ready
to throw herſelf away upon the firſt worth-
leſs fellow that will ask her the queſtion. |
—_—_ indeed is indulging the paſſion of ro-
venge,
rene, Wees any concomitant plea»
ge or ſatiefaRion, Far from ir the greate |
| ex8he degree of indulgence, the greater the
pPein. My next inſtance will be ſtill more
mat when the paſſion of grief is at its height,
the, very Hature of it is to ſhun and fly
from every thing which tends to give eaſe or
comfort. He ruſhes on to miſery, by a ſort
of ſympathy wich the perſon for whom he
in grieved. . Why, ſnould I be happy when
my friend is. no more? is the language of this
paſſion. In theſe circumſtances, the man is
truly. a ſelf· tormentor. And here we have
a ſingular phœnomenon in human nature,
an appetite after pain, an inclination to ren-
der one's ſelf miſerable, This goes further
than even ſelf - murder; a crime that is ne-
ver perpetrated but in order to put an end
to miſery, eee eee
* be e eee th cant
” 4h ae
W now! FIR — dlcipe
on is of human narute, given by Mr. Locke,
| Dr | | and
\
OBJECTS/OF/ DISTRESS. ng
; and by our French author. They ickhows =
ledge no motive to action, but what ariſes
from ſelf-love ; meaſures laid down: tea
tain' pleaſure, or to ſnun pain. Our pattj
cular appetites and affectlons, and the d.
fires and averſions involved in them, are left
entirely out of the ſyſtem,” And yet we ny |
fay, with ſome degree of probability; that
we are more influenced by theſe than by
ſelf· love. We further diſcover by this in
quiry, what is of great importance to the/
ſubje& in hand, that, as happineſs is not al-
ways the impulſive motive to action, fond
ther is it always the effect of an indulge®
paſſion. | Nay, we find this very ſingular
phenomenon” in human nature a direct ap-
petite or deſire, in ſome inſtances, after pain:
So various is human nature, and ſo compk
cated its acting powers, that it is not err
; to be taken in at one view. .
3 uh
AND now we return to our ſubject, af-
ter having unfolded thoſe principles of ac-
tion _ which it is connected. It may be
gathered
teenis eber hd donn, that.
vature, which deſigned us for ſociety, has
connefted us ſtrongly together, by a parti -
cipation of tha joys and miſerics of our fel ·
low creatures. We have a ſtrong ſympa-
thy with them; we partake of their afflicti-
ons; We grieve with them and for them;
and, in many inſtances, their misfortunes af-
ſect us aqually with our own. Let it not
therefore, appear ſurpriſing, that people, in-
ſtead of ſhunning objects of miſery, chuſe to
dyecll, upon them for this is truly as natu-
ral as indulging grief for our own misfor-
tunes. And it muſt be obſerved at the ſame
time, that this is wiſely ordered by provi-
— were the ſocial affections mixt with
any degree of averſion, even when we ſuf⸗
fer under them, we ſhould be inclined, up-
on the firſt notice of an obj ect of diſtreſs,
to drive it from our ſight and mind, inſtead.
IHE
"Nox ought we to judge of this principle,
26 any way vitious or r. for beſides,
bude 2
&
OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. 17
that it ig the great cement of human ſocle-
ty,” we ought: to conſider, that, an no ſtate
is exempt from misfortunes, mutual Iymp --
thy muſt greatly promote” the fechrity nd
happineſs of mankind. And *tis à much
more comfortable ſituatlon, that the prof
pate ty and preſervation of each individual
ould! be the care of” the Whole ſpecies,
than that evety man, as the fingle inhabi-
tafit of a deſert land; ſhould be left to ſtand
or fall By Himſelf, without profpe&t of re-
gard, of aſſiſtance from others. Nor is this
all. When we conſider our own character
and actions in à reflex view, we cannot help
approving of this tenderneſs and fympathy
in our nature; we are pleaſed with ourſelves
for being ſo conſtituted, we are conſcious of
inward merit; and Aris a mn ſource
of farifation.. > | a
-90 {$691
To open this bee 4 little tube i it muſt
be obſerved, that naturally we have a ſtrong
deſire to be acquainted with the hiſtory of
our r fellow creatures. We judge of their ac-
- C tions,
18 ATTACHMENT 10 0
tions, approve - or; diſapprove, condemn, OF
acquit; and in this the buſy mind has 2 won
derful delight... Nay, we go further. We
enter deep ioto their concerns, take a fide;
we parle of joys and difleſſey, with thoſe
we favour, and ſhow, a proportional averſion 5
to others. This turn of mind makes hiſto- |
„ novels and, plays the moſt univerſal and
yourite.entertainments, „And indeed this
is no more than what is to be expected from
man as a Jociable ereature; and we may
venture to affirm, that the moſt ſociable have
the. greateſt ſhare. of this ſort of curioſity,
and the, ſtrongeſt. e to d en-
e. ee
ITI. AGE EDY is an imitation or 3
don of human characters and actions. is |
a feigned hiſtory which generally. makes a
ſtronger impreſſion, than what is real ; be-
cauſe, .if it be a work of genius, incidents
vill be choſen to make the deepeſt impreſſi-
ons, and will be ſo conducted, as to keep
che mind] in coptinual ſuſpenſe and agitation,
— beyond
4 aon —
objicrs O Dis RES 19
ö beyond what commonly happens i in real life.
By à well wrought tragedy, all che ſocial |
paſſions are rouſed. The firſt ſcene is ſeatce
ended before we are engaged. We take a
ſudden affection to ſome of the perſonages
repreſented. We come to be attached to
them as to our boſom-friends, and hope and
fear for them, as if the whole were a true
eh inſteaq wy A Fable,
To a dry philoſopher, cnn with
chai entertainments, it may appear ſur-
priſing, that imitation ſhould have ſuch an
effect upon the mind, and that the want
of truth and reality ſhould not prevent the
operation of our paſſions. But whatever
may be the phyſical cauſe, one thing is evi-
dent, that this aptitude of the mind of man,
to receive impreſſions from feigned, as well
as from real objects, contributes to the no-
bleſt purpoſes of life. Nothing conduces
ſo much to improve the mind, and confiim
jt in virtue, as being continually employed in
ſurveying the actions of others, entering into
49} 4
de denen of the Aro 2pproving.of
ciſed by both of Wen equally, 7 mA
2 ph Tas 0 appear to be a fair a account tof
ad. ATTACHMENT: 10
ein onde, © | g'viee, and ſhoy-
quires Lrengeh by — 28 well ax ithe
body. But were, there no ppportunity for
his ſart of diſcipline, but from ſcenes of re-
21 lie, the generality al men would he. little
the better for it, becauſe ſuch ſcenes do but
rarely occur. They, are not frequent even
in hiſtory. But, in compoſitions where li-
berty is allowed of fiction, it muſt be want
oki genius, if che mind is, not ſufficiently
- Exerciled,, till it acquire the greateſt ſenſibi-
Aity, and the moſt prin n vir-
4 * 1 Peg of 1. J 8
ue. 4 100 A px 111 'i 10
Thus, dalex n 6 ear cen, not
leſs than true hiſtory.” Friendſhip; concern
for the virtuous, abhorrence of the vitious,
tompaſſion, hope, fear, and the whole train
of the ſocial paſſions, are rouſed "ROW excr-
A
the anachment we have. to theatrical 105 Ip
34
OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. 2x
tertainments: but when the ſubject is more
narrowly. examined, ſome difficylties ogcur,
t9 which the principles above laid down will
ſearce afford x fatisfaQtory anſwer. | Tis no
wonder that young people flock to ſuch en-
tertainments. . The love of novelty, deſire
of occupation, beauty of action, are ſtrong
attractions: and if one is once engaged, of
whatever age, by entering into the intereſts
of the perſonages.repreſcated, the. attraction
| turns ſtrong. beyond meaſure, and the. ſtory
muſt be followed out, whatever be the con-
ſequence. The foreſight of running one's
ſelf into grief and affliction will not diſen-
gage. But people generally turn wiſe by
experience; and it may appear ſurpriſing,
when diſtreſs is the 2 effect of
ſuch entertainments, that perſons of riper
judgment ſhould, not ſhun them altogether.
Does ſelf-loye, 1 aſleep 1 in this caſe, which
is for ordinary ſo active a ptinciple Mhen
one conſiders the matter @, priori, he will
not heſitate to draw a concluſion to this pur-
un chat as repeated experience muſt, * the
*
"AKT
weng ran; make us wiſe enough to keep out
of Harm's way; deep tragedies, for that rea-
$66,558} be litde frequented! by perſons of
reflection. "Yet the contrary is true in fact;
che deepeſt tragedies being the moſt fre-
quemed by perſons of all ages, eſpecially by
thoſe of delicate feelings, upon whom the
ſtrongeſt impreſſions are made. A man of
that character; who has ſcarce got the better
er the deep diſtreſs he was thrown into the
Fight before by 2 well acted tragedy, does,
in kis cloſet, coolly and deliberately reſolve
te go to the next entertainment of the kind,
without pany 1 eee obRrufion from
2 55 5 7* nk Vert 3: Fin "D211?
To Tuts leads to a ſpeculation, b ono
. of the moſt curious that belongs to human
-hature. Contrary to what is generally un-
kerſtood, the above is a palpable proof, that
deen ſelf-love does not E rs eng to a>
void pain and diſtreſs. ' In' examining how
"this is brought about, there will be diſcover.
e an admirable contrivance in human na-
aol 4 | ture, i
+
4
OBJECTS OP DISTRESS. 23
tore, to give free {cope to the ſocial affect
ons. Let us review what is above laid down;
in the firſt place, that of che painful paſſi
ons, ſome are accompanied with averſian,
ſome with deſire: in the next place, that of
the painful paſſions, accompanied with de
ſire, the gratification of ſome;produces/plegy
ſure, ſuch as hunger and thirſt, revenge, tc.
others pain and diſtreſs, ſuch as grief. No,
upon the ſtricteſt examination, the follows
ing propoſition will be found to hold: true
in fact; that the painful paſſions, which in
the direct feeling, are free from any degree
_ of averſion, have as little of i it in the reflex
act. Or; to expreſs the thing more familiars
ly, 'when we reflect upon the pain we have
ſuffered by our concern for others, there is
no degree of averſion mixt with the reflecti-
on, more than with the pain itſelf, which
is the immediate effect of the object. For
illuſtration's fake, let us compare the pain
which ariſes from compaſſion with any bo-
dily pain. Cutting one's fleſh is not only
accompanied with ſtrong averſion in the di-
9 5 rect
r
res feeling, but with an averfion *
| frong in reſlecung upon the actien after
durch! We feel no ſuch averſion in feffect-
jag upon the mental pains above deſcribed. |
On the contrary, her we reflect upon the
bein which che misfortune of 3 friend gave
us; tlie reflection is accompanied with an
eminent degree'of ſatisfaction. We approve
of Gurſelves for ſuffering- with our friend,
vatoe ourſelves the more for that ſuffering,
and ebdvtady ho natderys/chevefaly whe likes
. ee
geh vas mort 3931 218 lat Wonib s
„Warn ee nel paſks
oni, which though painful, not only in the
firſt impreſſion, but alſo in the gratifibation,
iH I may call it ſo, are yer accompanied
with no averſion; we find they are all of
the ſocial kind; ariſing from that eminent
principle of ſympathy, which ĩs the cement
, ſociety. The focial paſſions are
accompanied with appetite for indulgence,
when they give us pain, not leſs than when
hey give us pleaſure; We ſubmit willingly
3991 Sh wang ” -> + £0
OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. 25
to ſuch painful paſſions, and reckon it no
hardſhip to ſuffer under them. In this con-
ſtitution; we have the conſciouſneſs of regu-
larity and order, and that it is right and
meet we ſhould ſuffer after this manner.
Thus the moral affections, even ſuch of
them as produce pain, both in the firſt feel -
ing, and in the indulgence of the paſſion,
are none of them attended with any degree
of averſion, not even in reflecting upon the
diſtreſs they often bring us under. And this
obſervation tends to ſet the moral affections
in a very diſtinguiſhed point of view, in op-
or merely ſelfiſh,
Many and admirable are the ſprings of
action in human nature, and not one more
admirable than what is now unfolded. Com-
paſſion is a moſt valuable principle, which
connects people in ſociety by ties ſtrong-
er than thoſe of blood. Yet compaſſi-
poſition to thoſe that are either r wiicony
—
on is a painful emotion, and i is. often ac-
companied with pain in the indulgence.
Mere it accompanied with any degree of a-
D verſion,
26 . ATTACHMENT TO
uſo even in f̃eſſecting upon the diſtreſs
it occaſions, after the diſtreſs. is over, that
averſion would, by degrees, blunt the paſſi-
on, ald at length cure us of what we would
be apt to reckon a weaknels' or diſeaſe. But
the author of our nature has not leſt His
work imperfect. He has given us this noble
principle entire, without a countet- balance,
ſo as to have a vigorous and univerſal opera-
tion. Far from having any averſion to paid,
occafioned-by the ſocial principles we re-
flect upon ſuch pain with ſatis faction, and
are willing to ſubmit to it upon all occaſi-
as much as if it were a real pleaſure.
_ Any now the cauſe of the attachment
we haye to Tragedy! is fairly laid open, and
comes out i in the ſtrong eſt light. The Bel
al paſſions put in 727 05 by? it, ate often the
occaſion of diſtreſs to the ſpectators. But
our nature is ſo happily conftitated,” that
ddſtreſs, vccafioned by the exerciſe of the N-
| e, is 0 a 1 of the 77 |
RY eſt
%
464199 a.
OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. 27
eſt averſion. to us, even when we reflect
coolly and geliberstely upon it. Self. love
2 ; not. carry us to {hun affliction « of this
On the & contrary , we are ſo fram-
60 as a and chearfully ro ſubmit to
it upon all occaſions, as if it were a real and
ſubſtantial good. . And, thus, T dy | is al-
lowed to ſeize w mind with ir | the diffe-
rent charms which te from the exerciſe of
dhe. ſocial paſſions, without the leaſt obſtacle
neee. 1 n |
:
IC 111 1410
A po Phu our * refleted. on the 79 1
Pathiſigg principle, by which we are led, as
by a ſecret charm, to partake of the miſeties
\ofipthers, he would:have had no occaſion of
recurring do ſo 4mperfett a principle as that
of averſion to ination, to explain this ſeem-
i pRradox, that a man ſhould yoluntarily
chuſe to give himſelf pain. Wuhout enter-
ing. deep into; philoſaphy, he might have
had hints in abundance from common life
to explain! ir. In every corner, perſons arc
0 9 with of ſuch a ſympathiſing tem-
per,
28 ATTACHMENT ro
pe, as to chuſe to ſpend their lives' with
the diſeaſed and diſtreſſed. They partake
with them in their afflictions, enter heartily
into their concerns, and ſigh and groan with
them. Theſe paſs their Mes in fadnefs and
deſpondency, without having any other ſatis-
faction than what arifes upon the refleftion
of having done thelr duty, 3 = N
And. if this account of that Ate
juſt, we may be aſſured, that thoſe who are
moſt compaſſionate in their temper will be
fondeſt of Tragedy, which affords them 2
large field for indulging the paſſion, And
indeed admirable are the effects brought -
„
bout by this means: for, paſſions as they
gather ſtrength by indulgence, fo they de-
cay by want of exerciſe. Perſons in pro-
ſperity, unacquainted \ with diſtreſs and miſe-
ry, are apt to grow hard-hearted, Tragedy
s an admirable reſource in ſuch a cafe.” It
ſerves to humanize the temper, by fopplying
feigned objects of pity, which have nearly
"the lane een to exerciſe the paſſion that
real
OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. 29
real objects have. And thus it is, that we
are carried by a natural impulſe to deal
deep in affliction, occafioned by repreſenta-
tions of feigned misfortunes ; and the paſſi-
on of pity alone would make us-throng to
ſuch repreſcritations, were there nothing elſe
Tos attract os 0 or to afford ne
"Iris owing to N a public ex-
ecutions are ſo much frequented. Senſible
people endeavour to correct an | appetite,
which, upon indulgence, gives pain and a-
verſion, and, upon reflection, is attended
with no degree of ſelf-approbation. Hence
it is, that ſuch ſpectacles are the entertain»
ment of the vulgar chiefly, who allow them-
ſelves blindly to be led by the preſent in-
ſtinct, with little attention whether it be
c conducive 1 to ds good ar not. A
| '+
TY as for vrize-fighting. 0 eke
an ſhows, nothing anĩmates and inſpires us
more than examples of courage and bravery.
We catch the ſpirit of the actor, and turn
. bold
—— —
AAN TO... -
bold and intrepid as the appears. to be. Ona
9
the; other hand, | we enter into the diſtreſſes
of, the ranguilhed, and have a ſympathy, for
in proportion to. the gallantry of their
behaviour. . No wonder, then, hat ſuch
ſhows are. frequented by perſons of the beſt
tlie... We ere led by the; fame, principle,
that makes us fond of peruſi ing the lives of
herots/and of conquerors. .; And it may be
obſerved by-the-by,that ſuch ſpeQacles haxę
an6dmirable good: effect in traiging up the
yohth, t6:baldneſs and. reſolution. - In this,
thereforc, 1 ſee not chat Foreighers have rea-
4 bo condemn the Engliſh taſte. Spec-
ailrs of his fort. deſerve renconragement
from the tate, pepe S ee
Free ed bel off ot q{baik. e515)
2 315 T's 's LW: 001301531, il 63 LTH nt :
As for gaming, — myfall to
tbink that there is any pleaſure in having
the aitinid kept»indyſpenſes; and as it were
upon the rack,:which muſt be: the ce %
thoſe ho venture theit money at games of
1 Inaction and idleneſs are not T
*
' OBJECTS OF DISTRESS. 31
far ſo-hard to bear. I am ſatisfied that the
love of money is at the bottom. Nor is it 3
ſolid objection, that people will negle& games
of skill and addreſs, to venture their money
at hazard; forghis may be owing to indo-
lence, diffidence, or impatience. There is
indeed a curious ſpeculation with regard to
this article of gaming, that pleaſure and pain
attend good and bad ſucceſs at play, inde-
pendent of the money loſt or win. It is a
plain caſe, that good luck raiſes our ſpirits,
as bad luck depreſſes them, without regard
to conſequences: and it ſeems extremely
clear, that our concern at game, when we
play for trifles, is owing to this very thing.
What may be the root of this affection, is
not ſo obvious. But as it is not neceſſarily
connected with our preſent theme, I ſhall |
leave it to be inveſtigated by others.
ESSAY IL
*
* .
«© £ F #5 . —_—_—— 4 *
* - S443 v df 1 7 |
4 & + 4 * 4 - þ
- 411. * = 4 %..# & 4 .
= ”
E *
.
— " v *
** &. "3% * * + —
» HIS ws = — M5 24 „ . 4 »
of *
S . -
— "IE, 17
"_ 7 » 447% 1 N 14 ” * I = * * ' .
1 * .
ww £4 e . - 2 +4 Li w# © ”
- *
* « va 1 4 A C
+ \ $4
— 7 : ? 4
\ "+ % © * . * y 8 4 * 0 *
1 a * = Y 4 , |
* - — © # 4 5 * .
* woot at boos
— *
1 = Ll * * - * *
"© 3 14 "od re WS 5
— a + + +4 % ” „ = = 4 - 7
= — 7 w
- 0 y
* *
* — — SW Sa " * 1
— 916 — % © 4 - - *..4 # + - ® & o .* - 6 -
-
-
— n ;
& } ; " - 6
* - » 4 — * 4 N f
I | * * # 2 - & &3 -
oo
5 *
-
7 - " 2 * - 1
* 8 * — . —— 1 *
1 *
6 4 - * 1 T
:
. .
N o — 7 © > —
:p WS +4
-
* * * * *
0 * 9 OY —
% % * - mo L # — o F
0 -
” o * . :
- = = N
. »
-
1 1 * -
L -
1 ba : *
:
* ”
* " *% 4 * o 1
, * : 4s
*
% o
— a , _- bl .
* G 7
Cy \ * 6 4
- *
— 0 * -
22 . p - 4 ” #
:
* *
” , - . : F
.
=
" o
%
4 =
* s b 1 ,
: = * ws - " is
"4s
”
. . -
, *
9 @® -» *» * 1 2
5 —
,
. - N 2 4
5 9 :
* . . 9
* 9 9
* w a .
*
*
0 *
I *
.
*
P .
> al. '
1 =-
S 4s 4 * 0
0 ”
'
*
. * * #
IJ
*
. E Y, 10
0 4. FounD&TiON and .
nal W We N
| 416
4a ©
InTzopre TION, 4 —
9 -
UBERFICIAL knowledge produces the
82 boldeſk adventurerg, becauſe it gives
no check to the imagination, hen fired
by, 2 new thought. Writers of this ſtamp
lay dawn. plant, conttive. models, and arc
hurried, on to execution, by the pleaſure of
novelty, without conſidering whether, after
all, there is any ſolid, foungatign, 19 ſupport
the ſpacious edifice. It redounds not a little
to the honour of ſome late inguirers-after
— that, ſybdping this bent of nature,
they have ſubmitted to the low-and more
painful ſtudy of facts and experiments. N: ar,
rural. philoſophy, i; all its branches, is 80.
vanced by this laborious method. The ac-
curate Mr. Locke has purſued. the. fame
track in the ſcience of logicks, and has been
followed by { ſeveral i ingenious writers. But
| E it
34 PRINCIPLES OF THE
it ſeems to fare hard with the miſtreſs-ſci-
ence, that leſs deferetice is paid to her than
to her hand- maids. Every author exhibity
a ſyſtem of morals, ſuch as cheſt ſuits his
taſte and fancy. He frames regulations for
human conduct, without conſidering whe-
ther they ariſe out of human nature, or can L
be accommodated to it. And hence many
airy ſyſtems that relate not more to man,
than to many other beings. Authors of a
warm imagination, and benevolent turn of
mind, exalt man to the angelic nature, and
compoſe laws for his conduct, fo refin'd as to
be far above the reach of humanity. Others
of a contrary diſpoſition, forcing down all
men to a level with the very loweſt of their |
kind , aſſign them laws more ſuitable to brutes
than to rational beings. In abſtract ſcience,
philoſophers may more innocently indulge
their fancies. The worſt that can happen is,
to miſlead us in matters where error has
little influence on practice: but they Who
deal in moral philoſophy ought to be cauti-
on for their errors ſeldom fail. to have a
, bad
LAW OF NATURE. 35
bad tendency. The exalting of nature a-
bove its ſtandard is apt to diſguſt the mind,
conſcious of its weakneſs, and of its inabili-
ty to attain · ſuch an uncommon degree of
perfection. The debaſing of nature tends to
break the balance of the affections, by add-
ing weight to the ſelfiſh and irregular appe-
tites. A cruel effect this, but not the only
bad one. The many claſhing opinions a-
bout morality are apt to tempt readers, who
have any hollowneſs of heart, to ſhake off
all principles, and to give way to every ap-
petite as ĩt comes uppermoſt: and then adieu
to a juſt tenor of - * W 'of
conduR. 01TH 1
Ti ESE conſiderations give the author-of
this eſſay a juſt concern to proceed with the
utmoſt circumſpection in his inquiries, and
to try his concluſions by their true touch-
ſtone, that of facts and experiments. Had
this method been ſtrictly followed, the world
would not have been perplexed with many
various and inconſiſtent ſlyſtems, which un-
* happily
36 PRINCIPLES OF-/THE
happily. have rendered morality a difficult
and intricate ſcience. - Ap attempt to reflort
it to its ongival ſimplieity and authority, muſt
be approved of, howeyer ſhort one falls in
the excention. Authors differ about the
otigin of the laws of nature, and they
differ about che laws themſelves. It will
perhaps be bound, that there is leſs diffe ·
rence about the former in rrality, than in
appearance, It were to be wiſhed; that the
different opinions about the latter eould be
as happily reconciled, But as the author àc-
knowledges chis to be above his reach; he
muſt take up with, a leſs agrecabls task,
which is to attempt a plan of the laws af na-
ture, drawn from their proper, WG, with
bee hebe
ty b299019 01 eee eee
Dns 2 diopgi 270 8 noms JIE
- = 4 *
- * 1 - N 9 * «4 1; © * Ft - F\ „ -
A 2 I+ ** 1 4 13 1 j . | p * 1 5 1 * 14
IEF Dx | N . , - Ws _
8 —_ Sz! 9 9 Ps of ? * 99 8 , * 7 1 a FI * © - #'% *
| +. 4 6.1 WAFS ASA +. 4 I. 4 „ + 4% +» - % 1105
5 | h
of aa | ® . n ct
"4c 717 } Swro biz
— 4 # 8 "a.
ELIT 7 — * + P LN
= 9 *
: * En AP "81
* 1 4 [ — Pa $6.2 IA
"#4344
* 4 « ®
. *
Bey. of T * Ir "RES. /% 4
„ « "= 7 it [ p
,
"CH 17 P, * Wo
wh: 2125
. FounnariON 5 the Law 6
i NATURE. 8
®,
* aids fot the unis ak
1 laws 6f our nature; the following re-
flectionb readily occur. In the firſt place,
two things cannot be more intimately con-
nected than a being and its actions; for the
connection is that of cauſe and effect: ſuch
as the being is, ſuch muſt its actions be. In
the next place, the ſeveral claſſes into which
nature has diſtributed living creatures, are
not more diſtinguiſhable by an external form,
than by an internal Conſtitution, which ma-
nifeſts itſelf in a certairi uniformity of: con+
duct, peculiar to each ſpecies. In the third
place, any action, conformable to the com-
mon nature of the ſpecies, is conſidered by
us as regular and good: it is acting accord-
ing to order, and according to nature. But
if there exiſts a being, with a conſtifinion
different from that of its kind, the actions
x 27nd cho agreeable-to'its own pes
culiar
38 FOUNDATION OF THE
culiar conſtitution, will, to us, appear whim-
ſical and diſorderly: we ſhall have a feeling
of diſguſt, as if we Aw a man with two heads
or four hands. Theſe reflections lead us to
+ the foundation of the laws of our natuſe.
They are to be derived from the common
nature of man, bange —
| e e not a — © 991
.
1 yr ion RR 4
work of all morality, it may not be improper
Ang around, we find creatures of very diffe-
rent lands, both as to their external and in-
ternal conſtitutions. Each ſpecies: having 2
pecuſiar nature, muſt have a peculiar rule of
action reſulting from its nature. We find
- thisto hold in fact; andb it is extreme agrees
able to obſerve! how accurately the laws of
each ſpecies, ariſing from its nature, are ad-
juſted to its external frame, and to the cir-
cuimſtances in which it is placed; fo as to
procure the conveniencies of life in the beſt
manner, and to produce regularity and con-
"tf ſiſtenex
LAW OF NATURE. 39
ſiſtency of conduct. To give but one in-
ſtance, The lag which govern ſociable
creatures, differ widely from thoſe which
govern che ſavage and ſolitary. Nothing
more natural nor more orderly among ſoliz
rar} creatures, who have no mutual connec-
tion, than to make food one of another:
But for creatures in ſociety to live after this
manner, behoved to be the effect of jarring
and inconſiſtent principles. No ſuch diſor-
derly appearance is to be met with upon the
face of. this globe. There is, as above ob-
ſerved, a harmony betwixt the internal and |
external conſtitution of the ſeveral claſſes of
animals; and this harmony obtains ſo uni-
verſally, as to afford a delightful proſpett. of
deep deſign regularly carried into execution.
The common nature of every claſs. of be- .
ings is felt by us as perfect; and, therefore,
if, in any inſtance, a particular being ſwerve
from the common nature of its kind, the
action upon that account is accompanied
with a ſenſe of diſorder and wrong. Thus,
as we · have a ſenſe of right from every ac.
2 tion,
% FOUNDATION. OF THE
tioh; which is cnfdrmable to this common
5 _ che nennen to .
ok ſource; this the. common: nature of
the ſpecict. In a word, it ig according to
ordert, that the different forts of living ctea-
tures hould be governed by Jaws adapted
da nbeir peculiar natura. We conſider it. as
fit.and froper that it ſhould be ſo; and it is
a: hezutiful ſcene to ſind creatures acting ac-
danding to their nature, and thereby aR-
ing uniformly, and Tong eig e 65.
nn vid 21 vr O
un force, X this e eatngh, at
3 any; rate, be reſiſted by thoſe who admit of
final. cauſes, We make no difficulty to pro-
nounce, that a ſpecies. of heings are madę
for fuch and ſuch an end, who are of ſuch
and ſuch a nature. A lion is made to pur-
| chaſe the means of life by his claws. Why!
becauſe ſuch is his nature and conſtitution.
A man is made to purchaſe the means of life
by.the help of others, in ſociety. "opt
1
LAW OF NATURE. 41
becauſe, from the conſtitution both of his
body and mind, he cannot live comfortably
but in ſociety. It is thus we diſcover for
what end we were deſigned by nature, or
the author of nature; and the ſame chain
of reaſoning points out to us the laws by
which we ought to regulate our actions.
For, acting according to nature, is acting ſo,
as to anſwer the end of our creation.
3 N — 1
1 L >»
LY * 4 a p q Fl : 4 1 4 : — * 1 * - Yo
p © 2 = * $
*
-
*
Mads bs SF. 4 44543;
we Tt cn. 1.“ 1 = Th
tf the — * 8.1 vr.
TAYING ſhown. that ho. ature, of
man is the only foundation of the
laws, that ought to govern his actions, it will
be neoefary o trace out human nature with
all the accurscy poſſible, ſo far as. regards
the preſent ſubject. If we can happily ac-
compliſh this undertaking, it will be eaſy, in
the ſynthetical method, to deduce the laws
which ought to regulate our conduct. And
we ſhall examine, in the firſt place, after
what manner we are related to beings and
things about us; for this ſpeculation will
lead to the point in view.
As we are placed in a great world, ſur-
rounded. with beings and things, ſome bene-
ficial, others hurtful ; we are ſo conſtituted,
that ſcarce any of the objects of perception
are indifferent to us. They either give us
pleaſure or pain. Sounds, taſtes, and ſmells,
are either agreeable or diſagrecable. And
the
LAWOF NATURE. 42
| the thing is moſt of allremarkable iy the ob-
jets of fight, which aſſect us in a more hve-
ly manner than the abjects of any other ex-
ternal ſenſe. Thus, a ſpreading oak, a, ver-
dant plain, a large river, are objects which
afford great delight. A rotten carcafe, a dif
torted figure, create averſion, which, in ſome
Iſtances goes the dien of horror.” 578
With regard to objects of fight, : 3
ever giyes pleaſure, is ſaid to be Beautiful;
whatever gives pain, is faid' to be Ugly.
The terms Beauty and Uglineſ, .. in their
original ſignification, are confined to objects
of ſight: and indeed ſuch objects, being more
highly agreeable or difagreeable than o-
thers, deſerve well to be diſtinguiſhed by a
proper name. But tho' this is the proper
meaning of the terms Beauty and Uglineks,
yet, as it happens with words which convey |
a more lively idea than ordinary, the terms
are applied in a figurative ſenſe to almoſt
every thing which carries a bigh reliſh or
diguſt, tho not the object of f ight, where
theſe
4 LAW OF NATURE.
dase feelings have: not a proper name of
cheir own. - Thus, we talk of a beautiful
theorem, a beautiful thought, and a beauti-
ful ation. And this way of ſpeaking has,
by common- uſe, become ſo familiar, that it
18 ſcarce e a . pt - of a
1 77 Tit & 211
"Tax 8 ind, pain mhich ariſe from
objects conſidered ſimply as exiſting, with-
out relation to any end propoſed, or any de-
ſigning agent, are to be placed in the loweſt
rank or order of Beauty and Uglineſs. But
when. « external ohjects, ſuch as b of art,
ae conſidered with relation ſome end
propoſed, 6, feel a, higher. tfegree | of pl plea-
Tore © or pain. 'Thus, a building rapular i in all
is parts pleaſes the eye, ypon, the very firſt
view.. But conſidered as 4 houſe for dwell-
ing in, which f is the end propoſed, it plea-
Es ſtill more, ſuppoſing it to be well fit-
ted to its end, A ſimilar, ſenſation atiſes
in obſerving the operations of a well order-
ed ſtate, where the parts are nicely adjuſt-
d io the aa of ere and happineſs,
raue! Tais»
LAW OP NATURE. 45
:-Tx1s: perception of Beauty in works of
art or deſign, which is produced not barely
by a ſight of the object, but by viewing the
object in a certain light, as fitted to ſome uſe,
and as related to ſome end, includes in it
what is termed Approbation: for approbati-
on, when applied to works of art, means,
preciſely, our being pleaſed with them, or
eonceiving them beautiful in the view of
being fitted to their end. Approbation and
Diſapprobation do not apply to the firſt or
loweſt claſs. of beautiful and ugly objects.
To ſay that we approve of a ſweet taſte, or
of a flowing river, is really ſaying no more,
than barely that we are pleaſed with ſuch
objects. But the term is juſtly applied to
works of art, becauſe it means more than
being pleaſed with ſuch an object merely as
exiſting. It imports a peculiar beauty, which
is perceived upon conſidering the” object *
ons to the ule os. |
* 4
i: ep 8 be ** obſerved, to avoid ob.
a that the beauty, which ariſes from the
relation
45. LAW OF NATURE.
relation of an object to its end, is indepen-
dent of the end itſelf, whether. good or bad,
whether, beneficial-or hurtful: far the feel
ing ariſes merely from conſidering its fitneſs
to the cnd propoled, vet that end *
R * we a the 0 itſelf dw con-
ſderation, there is diſcovered a diſtin& mo-
dification of Beauty and Uglineſs, of a high-
er kind than the two former. A beneficial
end propoſed, ſtrikes us with a very peculi.
ar pleaſure; and approbatlon belongs alfa
do this feeling. Thus, the mechaniſm of a
ſhip is beautiful, in the view of means well
fitted o an end. But the end itſelf of car -
tying on commerce, and procuring ſo many
eonveniencies to mankind, cxalts the object,
an qi heightens our approbation and pleaſure.
By, an End, I mean, that to which any thing
is fit ed, which ĩt ſetves to procure and bring
about, whether it be an ultimate end, ot ſub-
ordinate to ſomething further. Hence, what
is conſidered às an end in one 'view, may
be conſidered as a means in another. But
101780 1 | ſo
LAW Oo NATURE 47
ſo far as it is conſidered as an end, the de-
gree of its Beauty depends upon the degree
of its uſefulneſs. The feeling of Approba-
tion here terminates upon the thing itſelf 1 in
many inſtances, abſtracted from the intention
of an agent; which intention, coming into
view as good or bad, gives riſe to a modifica-
tion of Beauty or Deformity, diff different from
thoſe above ſet forth, as ſhall Preſently |
explained. Let it be only kept in view, that,
as the end or uſe of a thing 1 is an object of
greater dignity and importance than the
means, the approbation beſtowed on the
former riſes higher than that beſtowed on
the latter, -
Turst three orders of Beauty may be
blended” together! in many different ways, to
have very different effects. If an object,
in itſelf beautiful, be ill fitted to its end, it
will, upon the whole, be Aifagrecable. This
may be exemplified, in-a houſe regular in
its architecture, and beautiful to the eye,
but incommodious for dwelling, If there
is
—_—
geſted.
45 LAW OF NATURE.
is in an object an aptitude to 2 bad end, it
will, upon the whole, be diſagreeable, tho
it have the ſecond modification of beau-
ty in the greateſt perfektion. A conſtituti-
on of government, formed with the moſt
perfect art for enſlaing the people, may be
an inſtance of this. If the end propoſed is
good, but the object not well fitted to the
end, it will be beautiful or ugly, as the
goodneſs of the end, or unfitneſs of the
means, are prevalent. Of this, inſtances
will occur at firſt view, without being ſug-
11 "It
Tak above modifications of beauty and |
deformity, apply to all objects animate and
inanimate. A voluntary agent is an object
which produces a peculiar modification of
beauty and deformity, which, may readily
be diſtinguiſhed in the feeling from all o-
thers. The actions of living creatures are
more intereſting than the actions of matter.
The inſtinets, and principles of action of the
former, give us more delight than the blind
powers
ep
LAW OF NATURE. 49
powers of the latter, or, in other words, are
more beautiful. No one can doubt of this
fact, Who is in any degree converſaht with
the poets. In Homer every thing lives.
Even darts and arrows are endued with vo-
luntary motion. And we are ſenſible, that
nothing animates a poem more than the
Fe e of da _ 1
Nutz 1 5 a new modification of the
* and deformity of actions, conſider-
ed as proceeding from intention, deliberati-
on and choice. This modification, which
is of the utmoſt importance in the ſcience of
morals, concerns principally human actions;
for we diſcover little of intention, delibera-
tion and choice in the actions of inferior
creatures. Human actions are not only a-
greeable or difagreeable,' beautiful or deform-
ed, in the different views above mentioned,
but are further diſtinguiſhed in our feeling,
as fit, right and meet to be done, or as
fit, unmeet and wrong to be done. Thele ale
96 feelings, capable of no definition, an
G
1 =
2 ?
which |
which cannot des bs! expliined, than
by making uſe of the words that are appro-
priated to them. But let any man atten-
tively :examine” what paſſes in his mind,
vhen the object of his thought is an action
proceeding from deliberate intention, and
he will ſoon diſcover the meaning of theſe
words, and the feelings which they denote.
Let him but attend to a deliberate action
ſuggeſted by filial piety, or one ſuggeſted by
gratitude; ſuch actions will not only be agree-
able to him, and appear beautiful, but will be
agreeable: and beautiful as t, rigbe and meet
to be done. He will approve of the action
in chat quality, and he will approve of the
actor for having done his duty. This pecu- |
liar feeling,” or modification of beauty and
deformity” in human actions, is known by
the name” of moral beauty, © and moral de.
ermit- "In it conſiſts the morality and
immorality of human actions; and the pow -
er or Faculty, by which we perceive this dif-
ference among actions, nk under the name
of the moral ſenſe. W |
IT
LAW OF NATURE. 51
Ix is but a ſuperficial account which is
given of morality by moſt writers, that it
depends 7 Approbation and Diſappro-
bation. For it is evident, that theſe terms
are applicable to works of art, and to ob-
jects beneficial and hurtful, ag well as to
morality. It ought further to haye been ob-
ſerved, that the approbation or. diſapproba-
tion of actions, are feelings, very diſtinguiſh-
able from what relate to the objects now
mentioned. Some actions are approved of
as good and as fit, right and meet to be
done; others are diſapproved of as bad and
_ unfit, unmeet and wrong to be done. In the
one caſe, we approve of the actor as a good
man; in the other, diſapprove of him as a
bad man. Theſe feelings don't apply to ob-
jets as fitted to an end, nor even to the
end itſelf, except as proceeding from delibe-.
rate intention. When a piece of work is
well executed, we approve of the artificer for
his skill, not for his goodneſs. Severel
things inanimate, as well as animate, ſerve to
extreme good ends. We approve of theſe
ends as uſeful in chemſelves, but not as mo-
rally
32 LAW OF NATURE.
rally fit and right, where they are not e con-
ſidered as the reſult of intention.
or all objects whatever, human actions
are the moſt highly delightful or diſguſtful,
and afford the greateſt degree of beauty or
deformity. In theſe every modification con-
curs: the fitneſs or unfitneſs of the means:
the -goodneſs or badneſs of the end: the
intention of the actor, which gives them the
peculiar character of fit, right and meet, or
unfit, wrong and unmet.
Tus we find the nature of man ſo con-
ſtituted, as to approye of certain actions, and
to diſapprove of others; to conſider ſome
actions as fit, right and meet to be done,
and to conſider others as wnfit, unmeet and
wrong. What diſtinguiſhes actions, to make
them objects of the one or other feel-
ing, will be explained in the following cha-
pter. And perhaps it will further appear,
with regard to ſome of our actions, that
the approbation, or diſapprobation beſtow-
ed, has a more peculiar modification than
has been hitherto obſerved, to be a founda-
We | uon
LAW OF NATURE. 33
tion for the well known terms of duty and
obligation, and conſequently for a rule of
conduct, which, in the ſtricteſt ſenſe, may
be termed a law. But, at preſent, it is ſuffici-
ent to have explained in general, that we are
ſo conſtituted as to perceive or feel a Beau-
ty and Deformity, and a Right and Wrong
in actions. And this is what ſtrongly cha-
racteriſes the laws which govern the actions
of mankind. With regard to all other beings,
we have no Data to diſcover the laws of their
nature, other than their frame and conſtitu-
tion. We have the ſame Data to diſcover
the laws of our own nature. And, we have,
over and above, a peculiar feeling of approba-
tion, or diſapprobation, to point out to us what
we ought to do, and what we ought not to
do. And one thing is extremely remark-
able, which will be explained afterwards,
that the laws which are fitted to the nature
of man, and to his external circumſtances,
are the ſame which we approve of by the
moral ſenſe,
- oofpRRes CHAP.
34 :
*
* +»
ka TY
0 HA p. III. |
Of Dor? and Oy116 ATION.
Ho. theſe terms are of the f im-
portance in morals, I know not that
ny. author has attempted to explain them,
by pointing out thoſe principles or feelings
which they expreſs. This defect I ſhall en-
deavour to ſupply, by tracing theſe terms to
their proper ſource, without which the ſyſ-
tem of morals cannot. be complete, becauſe
they point out to us the moſt preciſe and bh:
ſential branch of . |
Loxp Shofieabury, as .oul
is much indebted for his ineſtimable writ- |
ings, has clearly and convincingly made out,
&* that virtue is the good, and vice the ill of
© every one.” But he has not proved vir-
tue to be our duty, otherways than by ſhow-
ing it to be our intereſt, which does not come
up to the idea of duty. For this term plain-
ly implies ſome what indiſpenſible in our con-
| duct;
LAW OF NATURE. 35
duct; what we ought to do, what we ought
to ſubmit to. Now a man may be conſider-
ed as fooliſh, for acting againſt his intereſt,
but he eangot be conſidered as wicked or M.
tious. His lordſhip, indeed, in his eſſay up-
on virtue , points at an explanation of Du-
ty and Obligation, by afferting the ſubordi-
nacy of the ſelf-· affections to the ſocial. But
tho he ſtates this as a propoſition to be
made out, he drops it in the after part of
his work, and never again brings it into
view,
Mr. Hutchiſon, in his eſſay upon. ba
and virtue +. founds the morality of a-
ons on à certain quality of actions, which
procures approbation and love to the agent.
But this account of morality is imperfect,
becauſe it excludes juſtice, and every thing
which may be ſtrictly called Duty. The
man who, confining himſelf. to ſtrict duty,
is true to his word, and avoids harming o-
thers, is a juſt and moral man; is intitled to
ſome
page 98. f Page 101.
356 LAW OF NATURE.
ſome ſhare of eſteem, but will never be the
object of love or friendſhip. - He muſt
ſhow a diſpoſition to the good of mankind,
at leaſt of his friends and neighbours: he
muſt exert acts of humanity and benevo- |
lence, before he can n to rouge the
oy of _ 5 | |
179 it is e to * abſerved,
rover in chis account of morality, the terms
Tight, obligation, duty, ought and | ſhould, have
no diſtin meaning; which ſhows that the
entire foundation of morality is not taken
in by this author. It is true, that, towards
the cloſe of his work, he endeavours to ex-
plain the meaning of the term obligation.
But as criticiſing upon authors, thoſe eſpeci-
ally who have. laid themſelves out to ad-
vance the cauſe of. virtue, is not the molt
agreeable task; I would not chuſe to ſpend
time, in ſhowing that he is unſucceſsful i in
his attempt. The lighteſt attention to the
ſubject will make it evident. For his whole
| account of ws moan is no more than,“ ei-
6c ihr
LAW OF NATURE. -59
& thera motive from ſelf-intereſt, ſufficient to
« determine all thoſe whoduly conſider it to
a certain courſe of action, which ſurely
is not moral obligation; or © a determination,
te without. regard to our own intereſt, to
* approve actions, and to perform them;
«which determination ſhall alſo make us
« difpleaſed with ourſelves, and uneaſy upon
having acted contrary to it; in which
ſenſe, he ſays, there is naturally an obligati-
on upon all men to benevolence. But this
account falls far ſhort of the whole idea of
obligation, and leaves no diſtinction betwixt
it and a ſimple approbation or diſapprobati-
on of the moral ſenſe; feelings that attend
many actions, which by no means come
under the notion of ob/igation or duty.
| Ne1THER is the author of the treatiſe
upon human nature more ſucceſsful, when
he endeavours to reſolve the moral ſenſe in-
to pure {ſympathy +. According to this
author, there is no more in morality but ap-
I proving
+ Vol. 3. Part 3.
358 LAW OF NATURE.
proving or diſapproving of an action, after
ve diſcover by reflection that it tends to the
good or hurt of ſociety. This would be by
far too faint a principle to controul our
irregular appetites and paſſions, It would
ſcarce be ſufficient to reſtrain us from en-
croaching upon our friends and neighbours;
and, with regard to ſtrangers, would be the
[weakeſt of all reſtraints. We ſhall, by and
by, ſnow that morality has a more ſolid foun-
dation. In the mean time, it is of impor-
tance to obſerve, that upon this author's
ſyſtem, as well as Hutchiſon's, the noted
terms of duty, obligation, ought and fhould
&c. are perfectly unintelligible.
Wr ſhall. now proceed to explain theſs
terms, by pointing out the preciſe feelings
which they expreſs. And, in performing this
task, there will be diſcovered a wonderful
and beautiful contrivance of the Author of
-our nature, to give authority to morality, by
putting the ſelt-affetions in a due ſubordina-
tion to the ſocial. The moral ſenſe has, in
| part,
LAW OF NATURE. 59
part, been explained above; that, by it, we
perceive ſome actions under the modifi-
cation of 'being fit, right, and meet to be
done, and others under the modification
of being unfit, unmeet and wrong. When
this obſervation is applied to particulars, it is
an evident fact, that we have a ſenſe of fit-
neſs in kindly and beneficent actions. We
approve of ourſelves and others for perform-
ing actions of this kind. As, on the other
hand, we diſapprove of the unſociable, peev-
iſh and hard-hearted. But, with regard to
one ſet of actions, there is a further modifi-
cation of the moral ſenſe. Actions directed
againſt others, by which they are hurt or
prejudged in their perſons, in their fame, or
in their goods, are the objects of a peculiar
feeling. They are perceived and felt not
only as unfit to be done, but as abſolutely
wrong to be done, and what, at any rate, we
ought not to do. What is here aſſerted, is
a matter of fact, which can admit of no o-
ther proof than an appeal to every man's
own feelings. Lay prejudice afide, and give
fair play to the emotions of the heart, I ask
no
60 LAW OF. NATURE,
no other conceſſion, There is no man, how-
ever irregular | in his life and manners, how-
ever poiſoned by a wrong education, but
muſt be ſenſible of this fact. And indeed the
words which are to be found in all lan-
guages, and which, are perfectly underſtood
in the communication, of ſentiments, are an
evident. demonſtration of it. Duty, obli-
gation, ought and /hould, in their common
meaning, would be empty. ſounds, : ki
upon e of fuck a e
Taz mb is 2 * — with — to pad
tude to benefactors, and performing of en-
gagements. We feel, theſe as our duty, in
the ſtricteſt ſenſe, and as What we are indiſ.
rn obliged to. We don't conſider then
as in any meaſure under our own power.
We have the feeling of neceſlity, and of be-
ing bound and tied to performance, almoſt
—.— as if we were under ſome external
9 pro is ; fit ny to * 8 — "nk
volent and generous actions are not the ob-
ject
LAW. OF NATURE. Gr
je& of this peculiar feeling. Hence, ſuch
actions, tho conſidered as fit and right to be
done, are not however conſidered to be our
duty, but as virtuous actions beyond what
is ſtrictly our duty. Benevolence and gene-
roſity are more beautiful, and more attrac-
tive of love and eſteem, than juſtice... Yet,
not being ſo neceſſary to the ſupport of ſo-
ciety, they are left upon the general footing
of approbatory pleaſure; while juſtice, faith,
truth, without which ſociety could not at
all ſubſiſt, are the objects of. the.above pecu-
liar feeling, to take away all ſhadow of li-
berty, and to put us under a * of per-
formance,
| Doaron Babe, a . and acute
writer, has gone further than any other, to
aſſign a juſt foundation for moral Duty. He
conſiders * conſcience or reflection, as one
« principle of action, which, compared with |
& the reſt as they ſtand together in the na-
« ture hay nan es bears upon it marks
ad
® Preface to the latter editions of his ſermons. |
6 AW OF NATURE.
« of authority over all the reſt, and claims
«the abſolute direction of them all, to al-
« low / or forbid their gratification.” And
his proof of this propoſition is, © that a dif-
4 aàpprobation of reflection is in itſelf a prin-
*.ciple manifeſtly: ſuperior to a mere pro-
« penſion. Had this admirable author
handled the ſubject more profefſedly than
he had occaſion to do in a preface, tis more
than likely he would have brought it out in-
to its cleareft light. But he has Fot faid
enough to afford that light which the fub-
ject is capable of. For i may be 'obſerv-
ed, in the firſt place, that a diſipprobation
of reflection is far from being the whole
of the matter. Such diſapprobation is ap-
plied to moroſeneſs, ſelfiſhneſs, and many
other partial affections, which are, however,
not conſidered in a ſtrict ſenſe as contrary to
our duty. And it may be doubted, whe-
ther a diſapprobation of reflection is, in eve-
ry caſe, a principle ſuperior to a mere pro-
penſion. We diſapprove af a man who ne-
glects his private affairs, and gives himſelf
Nr {244 e uno if Y; 2 up
LAW OF NATURE. 63
up to love, hunting, -or any other amuſe-
ment: nay, he diſapproves of himſelf. Let
from this we cannot fairly conclude, that he
is guilty of any breach of duty, or that it 1s
unlawful for him to follow his propenſion.
We may obſerve, in the next place, what will
be afterwards explained, that conſcience, or
the moral ſenſe is none of our principles of
action, but their guide and director. It is ſtill
of greater importance to obſerve, that the
authority of conſcience does not merely con-
ſit in an act of reflection. It proceeds from
a direct feeling, which we have upon preſent-
ing the object, without the intervention of
any ſort of reflection. And the authority
lyes in this circumſtance, that we feel and
perceive the action to be our duty, and what
we are indiſpenſibly bound to perform. It
is in this manner, that the moral ſenſe, with
regard to ſome actions, plainly bears upon it
the marks of authority over all our appetites
and affections. It is the voice of God with-
in us which commands our ſtricteſt obedi-
7 e Au . x” 3. 3-57 dente,
w& 4
6 Law OR NATURE.
ence, juſt as much as when een is de-
clred by en - +1 5a Nn . 1%
an is W donnie an ae
ene ſenſe, but not the whole of it.
A very important branch ſtill remains to be
_ unfolded. And, indeed, the more we ſearch
into the works of nature, the more oppor-
tunity there is to admire the wiſdom and
goodneſs of the Sovereign AtchiteR. In the
matters above mentioned, performing of pro-
-miſes, gratitude, and abſtaining from harm-
feeling and ſenſe of duty and obligation: in
tranſęreſſing theſe duties we have not only
the feeling of vice and wickedneſs, but we
-have further the ſenſe of merited puniſhment, =
and Aread of its being infliged upon ns.
T his dread may be but flight in the more
venial trariſgreſſions. But, in erimes of a
deep dye, it'riſes to a degree of anguiſh and
deſpair. Hence that remorſe of conſcience,
which hiſtories are full of, upon the eom-
«miſſion of certain crimes, and which proves
the
FAW OF NATURE 65
the moſt ſevere of all tortures. This dived
of metited-puniſhment operates for the moſt
part ſo ſtrongly upon the imagination, that
every unuſual accident, every extraordinary
misfortune is conſidered as à puniſhment
purpoſely inflicted for the crime commit-
ted. While the guilty perſon is in proſpe-
rity, he makes a ſhift to blunt the ſtings of
his conſcience But no ſooner does he fall
into diſtreſs, or into any depreſſion of
mind, than his conſcience lays faſt hold of
him; his crime ſtares him in the face; and
every accidental misfortune is converted in-
to a real puniſhment. <* And they ſaid one
eto another, we are verily guilty concern-
ing our brother, in that we ſaw the anguiſh
« of his ſoul when he beſought us, and we
_ « would not hear: therefore is this diſtreſs
© come upon us. And Reuben anſwered
4 them, ſaying, Spake I not untoO you, ſaying,
do not fin againſt the child? and you
« would not hear. Therefore behold alſo
« his blood. is required fr.
„ $18h{ 297 07 26 1 IF One
4. + Genelis, Chap. xl. ver. 21, 22. |
„ LAW u NATURE. |
+ ONE material circumſtance is here to be
temarked, which makes a further difference
betwixt the: primary and ſecondary virtues,
more eſſential to ſociety than generoſity, be-
nevolence, or anyother ſecondary virtue, they
are like ways more univerſal. Friendſhip, ge-
neroſity, ſoftneſs of manners, form particular
characters, and ſerve to diſtinguiſh one man
rom another. But We ſenſe of juſtice, and
of the ther primary virtues, is univerſal. It
belongs to man as fuch;/ Tho it exiſts in
very different degrees of ſtrength, chere per-
haps never was a human creature abſolutely
void of it. And it makes a delightful ap-
ven where this ſenſe is weak, as it is in ſome
individuals; /it notwithſtanding retains its au-
thority)as the ditector of their conduct. If
there is any ſenſe of juſtice, or of abſtaining
from injury, it muſt diſtinguiſh Right from
Wrong, what we ongbt to do from what
we ought not to do; and, by that very diſ-
iogajihing "_ gc claims to be our
guide
LAW OF NATURE. 67
guide and governor. This conſideration
may ſerve to juſtify human laws, which make
no diſtinction among men, as endued with a
Waere or weaker ſenſe of, Cw
Ans here we n * a moment, to
indulge ſome degree of admiration. upon this
part of the human ſyſtem, Man is evident-
ly intended to live in ſociety ; and becauſe
there can be no ſociety among creatures who
prey upon one another, it was neceſſary, in
the firſt place, to provide againſt mutual in-
juries. Further; man is the weakeſt of all
creatures eee and the very ſtrongeſt
in ſociety. Therefore mutual aſſiſtance is
the principal end of ſociety. And to this end
it was neceſſary, that there ſhould be mutu-
al truſt and reliance upon engagements, and
that favours. received ſhould be thankfully
repaid. /,, Now nothing can be more finely
adjuſted than the human heart to anſwer
theſe purpoſes. Tis not ſufficient, that we
approve: of every action which is eſſential to
che prelervation'of ſociety. Tis nat ſuffici-
beiden Me br | Cut
68. LAW OF NATURE. |
ent, that we diſapprove of every action which
tends to its diſſolution. A ſimple ſenſe of
approbation or diſapprobation will ſcarce be
ſufficient to give theſe actions the ſanction
of a law. But the approbation in this caſe
has the peculiar feeling of duty, that theſe
actions are what we ought to perform, and
what we are indiſpenſibly bound to perform,
This circumſtance converts into a law what
without it can only be conſidered as a rati-
onal meaſure, and a prudential rule of acti
on. Nor is any thing omitted to give it
" lo moſt complete character of a law. The
tranſgreſſion is attended with 2pprehenſion
of puniſhment, nay with actual puniſhment;
28 every misfortune which befalls the tranſ-
greſſor is conſidered by him as a puniſh-
ment. Nor is this the whole of the mat -
ter. Sympathy with our fellow-ereatures is
a principle implanted in the breaſt of every
man: we cannot hurt another without fuf-
| fering for it, which is an additional puniſh-
ment. And we are ſtill further puniſhed for
our injuſtice, - or ingratitude, by incurring =
Fheredy 1 the averſion and hatred of mankind,
| CHAP,
K *
. id - * 4 & ©
178 A | .
p 3 4
* ” p |
pu »
- 74
4 3 0 w.
or the: 8 ee 1
Mo RA! BRAUN. nge
1 is a fact which will be univerſally 1 |
mitted, that no man thinks ſo hi ghly of
himſelf, or 8 another, for having done a juſt,
as for En done a generous action: yet
every one mult be ſenſible, that juſtice is more
eſſential than, generoſity. to the order and
preſeryation of ſociety ; ; and why we ſhould
place the greater merit upon the leſs eſſential
action may appear. unaccountable. This mat-
tex deſeryes to be examined, becauſe it. gives
a further opening to the ſcience of morals.
Urox a ſmall degree of reflection, it will
appear; that the whole ſyſtem of morals is
founded upon the fuppoſſtion of liberty of
action . "0 ations were underſtood to be.
Ahrens | Oo
Doctor Butler, te ee ſa
6 Our conſtitution is put into our own power: we are
ke charged with it ; and therefore are * ney
bilorder or violation of u.
net
1d LAW OF NATURE.
nece ſſary, and no way under our power or
controul, we could never cgnceive them as
n or unſit to be done; as what we are indiſ—-
penſibly bound to do or not to do. To have
ſuych a feeling of human actions, upon the
ſuppoſition of neceſſity, would be as incon-
ſiſtent as to bave ſuch à feeling of the acti-
ons of matter, The celebrated diſpute about
liberty, and neceſſity is reſerved to be difcuſs-
| in a following eſſay. But without enter- |
upon that {ubjett at preſent, one fat
> certain, that in acting we have a feeling
ty and. independency. We never do
a wro however ſtrong the motive be,
wiel is not attended with a ſevere refleQi- |
| Oh), that we might have done otherways, and
3 ought to have done otherways;. Nay, du-
ting the very action, in the very time of it,
we haue a ſenſe or feeling of wrong, and
that e afl, to forbear; So that the moral
ſenſe, bath in the direct feeling, and in the
at of og rin n and im-
- > 1 a $5.3
; - 1 4 ay : *
, - *
5 8 © : 3 f 4 »
. „ bigs 7... 0 » wi if a , " |
: | / KI
© f - 2 . © W
* 4 . 6 . "x ,Þ '3 *
3 0 443 * 4 +4 & #544
*
N *
*
LAW OF NATURE. „
Tuts, if we miſtake not, will clear the
difficulty aboveſtated. If in the moral ſenſe
be involved liberty of action, there muſt of
conſequence be the higheſt ſenſe or feeling
af morality where liberty is greateſt.” Now,
in judging of human actions, thoſe actions,
which are eſſential to the order and preſer-
vation of ſociety,
duty to be juſt and honeſt. We ate bound
by a law in our nature, which we oughtaoc
to tranſgreſs. No ſuch feeling of duty or
obligation attends thoſe actions which come
under the denomination of generofity, great ·
cConſidered as leſs free than generoſity; and,
upon that very account, we aſctibe leſs me-
rit to the former, than to the latter. We a-
{cribe no merit at all to an action which is
altogether inroluntary; and we aſcribe more
or leſs merit, e en LY — is
more or leſs volu ntary.
6
1
. * ”
: :
WW 4-4 2 T
© © x
+
good meaſure neceſſary.” It is our firi&
4
0 .
. 1 ” * n * * 4 „ »&
1 1 6 hk * *
— — DUES ab LA tat ab hoe 4. — — — — —
Jultice, therefore, is
—_—
*
by which they ate enforecd. Thoſe of the
_ firſt rank; being eſſential to the ſubſiſtence of
„ LAN OFNRTURR. |
Tus there is diſcovered two ranks or
eclaſſes of moral actions, which are diſſerent
in their nature, and diſſerent as to the laws
ſociety, are entirely withdrawn from our e-
Jection and choice. They are perochved as
ä indiſpenſibly obligatory upon us; and the
_ #ratfgreſſion of the laws, which regulate this
branch of our conduct, is attended with ſe-
_ vere and never-failing puniſhment. In 2
word, there is not a characteriſtic of poſi-
tive lau which is not applicable, in the ſtriet-
eſt ſenſe; to theſe laws of nature; with this
5 material difference, that the anions of theſe
laws are greatly more efficacious than any
have been that invented to enforce munici-
pal laws. Thoſe of the ſecond rank, which
conttibute to the i improvement of ſociety,
but are not ſtrictiy neceſſary to its ſubſiſt-
; ence, are left to our own choice. E hey
have not the character of moral neceſſity im-
teſſed upon them, nor is the forbearance of
them attended with the feeling of guilt. On
the
1
|
2
:
|
LAW OF NATURE: *
ibe other hand, the actions which belong
to this rank are the objects of the ſtrongeſt
feelings of moral beauty; · of the higheſt de-
gree of approbation, both from ourſelves and
others. Offices of undeſerved kindneſs; re-
quital of good for evil, generous toils arid
ſufferings for the good of our country, come
under this claſs. Theſe are not made our
duty. There is no motive to the perform-
ance, which, in any proper ſenſe; can be
called a law. But there are the ſtrongeſt
motives that can conſiſt with perfect free-
dom. The performance is rewatded with a
conſciouſneſs of ſelf-merit, and with the
praiſe and admiration of all the world, which
are the higheſt and moſt refined 1
that . nature is * oh
* is n of enthoſnſm f in
this branch of moral beauty, that it ĩs not
wonderful ta find perſons of a free and
generous turn. of mind. capuvated with it,
who are leſs attentive to the virtues of the
K ſſuſt
34 awer NATURE
firſt chſs,; The magnanimous, who ran
not beat reſtraint, are more guided by: gene-
roſity than juſtice. Let, as pain is aiſtrong
er motive to action than pleaſure, the remorſe
which attends a breach of ſtrict duty is; with
the bulk of mankind, a more powerful in-
citement to honeſty, than praiſe and ſelf· ap-
probation are to generoſity. And there van-
not be a more pregnant inſtance of wiſdom =
than this part of the human conſtitution; it
being fur more eſſential to fociety; that all
men be juſt and m _ that =o ve
„ © |
Tan * of whar is e lad down is;
that, with regard to actions of the firſt rank,
the pain of tranſgreſſing the law is much
| greater than the pleaſure which reſults from
obeyidg it. The contrary is the caſe of
actions of the ſecond tank. The pleaſure
ariſing from the performance is much great-
er than ihe pain of neglect. Among the
vices N to the yu? Urtues, the
4 AH | moſt
LAW OF NATURE. 5
e. appearapces of moral defor- :
| found, A the ſecondary vir-
; the moſt * appearance of: oral |
b ; 80 -
' *4 l 5 y *
cauty. | |
- *
hs 4 IG" o
| # X 5 + =
N41 A IJ * : 3 % ; o « 11174 1241 f 343; 31439 * *
a *
- " 4 by 4 * 1 N 9
wil 5 4. - 1 4 22 . * . A . ti 5 : * - : — 3.1
« 1 "
1
4 1 n
6 * 'Y x2 a7 i . +3 " 11 "3 "3 » # — — 43. 4
- SS 244 - ©S +
- * " | 1 0
p 1 1 *
1 ” $85 wit ” . - * 14 * 2 * / o@T% 0 4 1. 4 4415 -
* 1 * | 1 | . 1111 : oc 3 « a
791. "IE © £34 wa an HEL AHH 4ST
1 | 7
N % > r
1 * - as P
> Pf - +4 4 gf #4 £9 4 6 6 4 b hy Pf? 4 HEAL * * 1115
py TY
= -
8 o : of W
8 1 * * . S 4 4 * = py 4 s # - 34 :4- &% - 11
* 1 * 98 1 *
v4 " 1 id , 1 r 4
„ „ 4545 1 1 * eee
4 2 -
: S z% 4 - „
9 . F VAL GoAil rn 74
" *
0 7 . & of = - * = 8 13
. q
- s * * _ gu X
7 "TITEL 0 &. 9 4 - #44" 4 4 Aa+p; tw 7 * 7 '.
— * 1 0 410 3 uin. 2 # & +4 o 4+13%
% : & OD 43 1 „ P 2 *
- —
%
gd | | 3 #7 % + 4 „ * . # + 4 ap © * Y 1
* . * H . *
—S44 4 1 g , o - 1 1212 * 2
; 2 f : $
:
. N * * V.7* 1 1 * 0 7 * # * i 4 y = Y . 1 17
8 F : F 1
1 3 N 1 . * 1 . 140 o « a
a : : : |
.
I *
Py 811 ©. * 4 . rene
* ” |
/ A
4 * : — „ * * N
- . 4 «
*
= # - —
*
%
eee 40 Wed
PETTY * CH . P. „eich nb
19, 28! a. V. 98 lat
f 5 e o.
155 bur bonne 2e 71 1
Ni the three foregoing chapters we have
1 aaken ſome pains to inquire into the
moral ſenſe, and to annaliſe it into its diffe-
rent feelings. Qur preſent task muſt be to
iaquire into thoſe principles in our natifte
| which move us to action. Theſe are diſſe-
rent ſubjects. For the moral ſenſe, proper-
tyſpeaking, is not a principle which moves
us to action. Its province is to inſtruct us,
whichiof our principles of action we may
indulge, and which of them we muſt re-
rains. : 21 It iis thenvajeo of God within *
1 ii Ac 1
-_-
»*
IN treatiſe 55 —4 Joe of anemic ls"
ol great importance to trace out the prin-
ciples by which we are led to action. We
have above obſerved, that the laws of nature
| can be to other than rules of action adapted
1 Seng Nowe our . ſo far as
90 2 | | con-
A
ba OF NATURE #7
concerns action, is made up of appetites,
paſſions and affections; which are the prin-
eiples of action, and of the moral ſenſe, by
which theſe principles are governed and di-
rected. No action therefore is a duty, to the
performance of which we are not prompted
by ſome natural principle. To make ſuch
an action our duty, would be to hay down a
rule of conduct contraty to our nature, or
that has no foundation in our nature. Con-
ſcience, or the moral ſenſe, may reſtrain us
from actions to which we are incited by a
natural principle: but conſcience; or the mo-
ral ſenſe, is not, in any caſe; the ſole prin-
ciple or motive of action. Nature has aſ-
ſigned it a different province. This is a truth
Which has been little attended to by thoſe
who haye given us ſyſtems of natural laws.
No wonder, therefore, they have wandered
ſo far from truth; Let it be kept cloſe in
view, and it will put an end to many a con-
troverſy about theſe laws. For example, if
it be kid down as a primary law of nature,
that we are ſtrictiy bound to advance the
ed, is our guide only, not our mover. Ap»
—
1 VPAWOPFNATURE.
good ef all, regarding our oui imereſt ne
ſurther than av it makes 4 part of the genet
tal heppineſa, we may ſafely rejeẽt ſueh a
Alu as ineonſiſtent with our nature, un left
it be made appear, that there is a principle
of henevplence in man which prompts him
to an equal (purſuit of the happineſs of all.
To found this diſintereſted ſcheme wholly
upon the moral ſenſe, would be a fruitleſs
endeavour. The moral ſenſe, as above obſery-
probation or diapprobation of theſe actions
to hich, by ſome natural principle, we ate
antopedentiy directed; is all that can refült
from it. If it be laid down, on the other
hand, that we ougkt only to rej ourfelves
in all our actions, and that it is folly, if not
vice, to concern ourfelves for others, ſuch : a
law: can never be admitted, unleſs upon the
2 _ mano gay = pris |
ot Ab . * in the ng me
2 man * from the brute efeadion;
' HOOD. Brutes
D OF NATURE] 53g
Bruges art etitirely governed by peimòp les oſ
action, hich, in them, obtain the name f
Inſtincts. They blindly: follow their in-
ſtincts, and are led by that inſtinct which i
ſtrongeſt for the ume. It. is meet. and
they ſhould act after this manner; bectiiſs
it is acting according to the whole of their
nature. But for man to allow himſelf to be
led implicitly by inſtinct, or his principles of
action, without check or conttoul, is nor
acting according to the whole of his nature.
He is endued with a moral ſenſe or cotiſci-
enee, to check and controul his principles of
action, and to inſtruct him which of them
he may indulge, and which of them he
6ught to reſtrain. This account ôf che
brute creation is undbubtedly true in tlie
mnain: whether ſo in every parũcular is of tis
importance to the preſent ſubjeck, being 6h
ly ſuggeſted by way of contraſt, ts 155
= peculiar nature A
Arti L account of our principles afiica
would be an endleſs theme. 50 it is pro-
$924 2 poſed
$0 LAW OF NATURE
poſed 40.confine the preſent ſhort eſſay te
the. laws which govern ſocial life, we ſhall
have,no occaſion to inquire into any /prins
dples of action, but what, are directed upon
Sthers; dropping theſe which have ſelf 24
lone for their object. And, in this inquiry,
we ſet out with a moſt important queſtion,
ſeiz. In what ſeuſe we are to hold a princi-
ple of univerſal benevolence, as belonging
to human nature? When we conſider a ſingle
man, abſtracted from all circumſtances and
all connections, we are not conſcious of any
benevolence. to him : ; we feel nothing with-
2 us that prompts us to advance his happi-
If one is agreeable at firſt fight, and
_ any degree of affection, it is wing
to looks, manner or behaviour. And for e-
vidence of this, we are as apt to be diſguſted
at firſt H ſight, as to be pleaſed, Man is by
nature a.ſhy and timorous avimal. Every
new object gives an impreſſion of feat, till,
upon better acquaintance, it is diſcovered to.
be harmleſs. . Thus an infant clings ta its
nurſe 0 the 6ght of a new. face; and
this
od * "
I'S 1
LAW OF NATURE. 87
his hatural dread is not removed but by
long experience. If every human creature
dld produce affection in every other at firſt
fight, children, by natural inſtinct, would
be fond of ſtrangers. But no ſuch inſtinct
diſcovers itſelf. Fondneſs is confined to
the nurſe, the parents, and thoſe who are
moſt about the child; till, by degrees, it o⸗
pens to a ſenſe of larger connections. This
argument may be illuſtrated by a very
low, but very apt inſtance. Dogs have, by
nature; an affection for the human ſpecies;
and, upon this account, puppies run to
the firſt man they ſee, ſhow marks of fond-
neſs, and play about his feet. There is no
ſuch general fondneſs of man to man by
nature.” Particular circumſtances are al-
ways tequired to produce and call it forth.
Diſtreſs indeed never fails to beget ſym-
pathy. The miſery of the moſt unknown
is a painful object, and we are prompted by
nature to afford relief. But when there is
nothing to call forth our ſympathy; where
there are no peculiar circumſtances to inte-
L reſt
Thoſe moraliſts; therefore, who require us
10 lay aſide all partial affeRion, and to 3&
* Which in aha 1 0 ne
juſthy faid, that man is endued with a prin-
- Ciple, of univerſal benevolence. Forthe hap |
£71 LAN oF, NATYRE
reſt . nz, or beget a conpeRtion, we. xeſt in
ſtate of indifference, and are not copicious
of wiſhing . either good or ill to the perſan.
vpon a principle of general equal bone
lence to all wen, require us to act upon a
c "©
* 2 12
wt 4 4 I&1 Af i * 84 wid; L
"
e 1 1 »be |
pineſs of mankind is an object agreeable to the
mind in contemplation; and good men have
a ſenſible pleaſure in every ſtudy: or putkug
by which, they can promote it, It muſt in-
deed be acknowledged, that bencyolence is
not equally directed to all men, but gradual-
ly decreaſes, according tothe diſtance oß the
object, till it dwindle away to nothing.
But here comes in a happy contrivnce of
nature, to ſupply the want of benevolence to.
wards Gant objects; which is, to give *
2 4
EAW OF NATURE 97
er bo 1h. abſttact tern, ſuch 25 6ur religion,
our country, our govertiment, or even man-
kind, to taiſe benevolence ot publick ſpirit
in the mind. The particular obj undef
each of theſe claſſes, ' conſidered fingly'ab@
apart, may have batte er 50 Foes to pro.
ales afſcction; but when comprehended uhs *
der one general term, they become afl be
ject that dllates ahd warms the heart: "and;
in this way, man is enabled to eHbräce 1H
his affection all mabkind, and theteby protii
pted to publick ſpirited len
H muſt have a great Hare of mdtetebee
in his temper who can reflect up n thi
brunch 6f hunia nature Without ſome des
grec of emotion. There is perhaps not oh
ſeene to be met with in the natural or Mo-
ral world, whete fore of deſign and of con!
ſümmate wildem ure diſplayed, than in this
undet conſideratibn. The authors, who, itt
pteſſed with teverence for humiti nature;
Have efideavoured to exalt it to the higheſt
pitch, could none of them ſtretch: their ina-
* beyorid a priiciple ef equal and U.
Sana niverſal
8 BAWOFNATURR
niverſal benevolence, And a very fine ſcheme
it is in idea. But unluckily it is entirely of
the Urcpian, kind, altogether ual for life
and action. 1 has. eſcaped the conſiderati-
on of theſe authors, that man is by nature
of a limited capacity, and chat his affection,
by multiplication of objects, inſtead of be
ing inereaſed, is ſplit, into parts, and weaken»
ed by diviſion. A principle of uniyerſal -
dual benevolepee,/ by dividing che attention
and affection, inſtead of promoting benevo-
lent actions, would in reality be an obſtruc-
tion to them. The mind would be diſtract-
ed by dhe multiplicity of objects. that baye
loſs where to ſet out. But the human ſyſtem
is better adjuſted, ĩhan to admit of ſuch dif
proportion betwixt ability and affection. The
principal objects of man's love are his friends
and relations. He has to ſpare, for his
neighbours, His His affection leſſens gradnally
in proportion to the diſtance of the object,
till it vaniſſi altogether. But were this the
un * human nature, wich regard to ber
nevolence,
LAW OF NATURE. 89
nerolence, man would be but an abject crea-
ture. By a very happy contrivance, objects
: which, becauſe of their diſtance, have little
or no influence, are made by accumulation,
and by being gathered together, in one ge-
neral view, to have the very ſtrongeſt effect;
exceeding in many inſtances the moſt lively
affection that is beſtowed upon particular
objects. By this happy contrivance the at-
tention, of the mind, and its affections, are
preſerved entire, to be beſtowed upon gene-
ral objects, inſtead of being diſſipated byan
endlefs diviſion. Nothing more ennobles
human nature chan this principle or ſpring of
action; and, at the ſame time, nothing is
more wonderful, than that a general term,
to which a very faint, if any, idea is affixt,
ſhould. be the foundation of a more intenſe
affection than is beſtawed; for the moſt part,
upon particular objects, how attractive ſoever.
When we talk of our country, our religion,
our government, the ideas annexed to theſe
general terms are at beſt obſcure and indi-
Rint, General terms are extremely uſefal
in
WB VLAWOR NATURE,
it language, ſervitig, hike mathematical ſigns,
© o0ffmtihicare 608? thoughts in a ſummaàry
way! But the uſe of th em is not tonfined
10 lungusge. They ſerve for a much nobler
purpoſe, to excite us to generous and bene-
volent actions, of the moſt exalted kind;
not eehfined ' ro) particulars,” but graſping
Whole ſbeieties, towns, countries, „Kingdoms, |
nay, al mankind. By this curious mecha-
fm; the defect of dur nature 14 amply re-
niedied!”” Diſtant objects, otherways inſen⸗
Able ate rendered confpicudus. Accumula-
dot makes them great, and greatneſs brings
chem beur the eye. The affection is preſerv-
ed, to be beſtowed entire, as up a ſing le
object. And to ſay all in one word, this fy-
ſtemlof benevolence, which is really found-
& in human Ab Aba not the invention
of man, is infinitely* better contrived" 60
ane the good and happineſs of fab
, dran any Utopian ſyſtem that ever hs
Nor en by ve n —
en 9 "7+ 5-6 bs
en e ae. TRAC. 44+, 2 |
” *
*
14 2 0 SF.
*
LAWOE NATURE. 4F
' Upon the oppoſite ſyſtem of abſolute ſel-
blbneſs, there is no Oceaſion to laſe a ma-
ment I is evidently clümeticzl, becauſe
it has no foundation, in human nature. It
is not more certain, that there exiſts the crea-
wre man, than that he has principles of ac-
Aion directed entirely upon others; ſame to
dd tbem good, and others to do them mi-
chief. Wha can doubt of this, when friend-
ſhip, compaſſion, gratituda an the one hand;
and, on tha other, malice and reſentment art
conſidered. It has indeed been obferved,
that wa'indulge ſuch paſſions and afſections
metcly for our own gratification, But no per-
ſon can telifni this obſervation, whQu is in any
meaſure acquainted with human nature. The
ſocial aſſections are in fact the ſouree of the
deepeſt afflictians, as well as of the moſt ae.
alted pleaſures, as has been fully laid open
in the foregoing effay.: In a word, we art
evidently: formed by nature for ſociety, and
for indulging the ſocial, as well as the ſelfiſn
paſſions ; and therefore, to eontend, that we
ought only to regard ourſelves, and to'be
2 influenced
8 LAW OF NATURE;
laſſuenced by no principles but what are ſel-
bh, -is ditectly to fly in the face of nature,
and to lay down a rule eee r
Alen wi our nature. 50 &
2 agen sb laid 450 as widely
erring from the nature of man, the way lyes
open ta come at what are his erue and genu-
ine principles of action. The firlt ching that
natute conſults, is the preſervation of her
creatures. Hence the loye of life is made the
ſtrongen of all inſtings Upon the lame dun
dation, pain is in a greater degree the object
of averſion, than pleaſure is of deſire, Pain
warns us of What tends to our diſſolution,
and ſo is a ſtrong guard to ſelf-preſervation;
Nleaſure is often fought after unwarily, and
by means dangerous to health and life, Pain
comes in as 2 monitor of. our danger ; and
nature, conſulting our preſervation in the firſt
place, and our! gratification only in the, ſe- |
cond, -wiſely gives pain more force to draw
us back, than it gives pleaſure to puſh us
i > * A Tar
: 10 N
* 4 $4 33th 4
* - » -
, my P *
4 %
TAW NAT UAE. ®
Tur Reond priviciple of ackioh is felf-
Joie; er defire of dit 8Wn' kiappinefs and
good. This is a ſtronget principle than bene-
voleftee, or love beſtowed upon Bthers ; and
in that reſpect is wiſtly ordered, becauſe
evely Hah hits more power, knowledge,
add opportunity tb promote his owt 8560
than that of others,” THUS che food of 1h
iduals is principally trüſted to thelt O %
cite. Ir 1c agrecablt 10 the Hrtitedl dure of
Cel bfeathirt as min, tHar It ſliobld be 1G,
and bettſecfuetitiy it is Wiſely orcdetecl tliat
every man fhöuid Habt tlie ftr Cögeft Areett-
on for himſelf. 1
1003435 NOþ #% 32 5 l N An *
"Tax above rinciples have Self for their
4 e 5 have Se for their
object, The following regard others. Fi-
- 8D 209 5 0 2s e N
delity is undoubtedly a principle of action
fot of the weakeſt fort. Performance of pro-
miles, the ſtanding true to engagements, and
in general the executing of truſts, come under
this head. Therefore friendſhip belongs to
l 12 2 }
this principle, which ſuppoſes a mutual en-
gagement ; and alſo love to children, who
by nature are entruſted to our care. BY
NM GRA-
yo Ling OF. NAT URE; 2
., GRaTITYDE | is a fourth principle of ac-
Hons univerſal] y acknowledged; and Benevo-
lence polleſſes the laſt place, diverſified by ĩts
objects, and exerting itſelf; more vigorouſly,
or more faintly, in proportion to the diſtance
of particular objects, and the grandeur. of
thoſe that are general. This EE of ac-
tion has one remarkable modification, that
| it operates with much greater force to relieve
_ -thoſe in diſtreſs, than 10 promote poſitive
good. 10 the caſe of diſtreſs, ſympathy
comes 0 in aid, and; in chat cp
X acquires the.name of x
AN 101 0
Tuxsx ſeveral principles of 2 are or-
dered, with admirable wiſdom, to promote
the general good i in the beſt and moſt effec-
tual manner. We act for the genetal good,
when, we act upon theſe principles, even
when it is not our Immediate aim. Tho
general good is an obje too ſublime, and
too remote, to be the ſole impulſive motiveto
action. It is better ordeted, that, in moſt i in-
ſtances, individuals ſhould have a limited aim,
which
-
*
3 * * 4
LAW OF NATURE! *
which they can readily accompliſh; © To e-
very man is aſſigned bis own task. And, if
every man do his duty, the general good will
be promoted much more fuccelsfully, than
if it were the aim in every ſingle action.
Tux above mentioned principles of acti-
on belong to man as ſuch, and conſtitute
what may be called the common nature of
man. Many other principles exert \them-
ſelves upon particular objects i in the inſtinc-
tive manner, without the intervention of a-
ny ſort of reaſoning or reflection, which al-
ſo belong to man & ſuch, appetite for food,
luſt, c. Other particular appetites, paſſi-
ons and affections, ſuch as ambition, avarice,
envy, love of novelty, of grandeur, Gc.
conſtitute the peculiar nature of individuals;
becauſe theſe arè diverſified among individu-
als in very different degrees. It belongs to
the ſcienes of Ethics, to treat of theſe parti-
cular principles of action. All that needs
here be obſerved of them is, that it is the aim
of the general principle of ſell. love to obtairf
1 to theſe particular principles.
as CHAP.
nn
. gente E of the Laws of Nareax,
. accarding t to | ſome Aulbors.
| AVG thus at full length ic
11 ed the nature of man, fo far as
concerns the preſent: ſubjeR, is may not be
diſagrecable to the reader, to have ſome. fe-
laxation, before be enters upon the remain
ing part of the work. We. ſhall Gl up this
interval with a view of ſome opinions, about
the foundation of the laws of nature, which
| We canngt help judging to be. inaccyrate, if
Dok erroncous. The epiſode: is, at the ſame
time, ſirictly connected with the principal
ſuhject; becauſe truth is always. beſt illuſtrat-
ed by oppoſing it to error. That morality
depends. entirely on the will of God, and
that. his will creates the, only obligation we
ly, under to be vigwous, is che opinion of
ieveral writers. This opinion, in one ſenſe,
is tte; bot far from being true in their ſenſe
who inculcate it. And; true or' falſe, it docs
not-
LAW OF NATURE.
not advance us a ſingle ſtep i in the know-.
ledge of our duty. For what does it avail
to, know, that morality depends upon the:
will of God, till we once know what his
will is? If it be ſaid, there is an original re-
velation of it to us in our nature, this
only mean, that our nature itſelf makes us feel.
the diſtinction betwixt virtue and vice, which
is the very doctrine above laid down. But,
ſay they, God, from the purity and rectitude
of his nature, cannot but approve. of good
actions, and diſapprove of ſuch as are Other-
ways. Here they don't conſider, that this.
argument ſuppoſes a diſtinction betwixt ir-
tue and vice antecedent to the will of God.
For if, abſtrating from, his will, virtue and
vice were indifferent, which is ſuppoſed in
the propoſition, we have no Data from the
purity of God's nature, or from any other
principle, to conclude, that vittue is more
the object of his choice than vice. But, fur-
ther, the very ſuppoſition of the purity and
rectitude of the nature of the Divine Being
preſuppoſes a taſte, feeling, or knowledge in
94 MAW Or NATURE:
us of an "eſſential: difference betuixt virtue
aud vice. Therefote it can never be aid;
im any proper ſenſe, that our only. obli=
_ gation to virtue is the will of God, ſeeing i ic
is true, that, abſtraQting altogether from his
will, there is an obligation to virtue found-
tin hat (rams of our nature.
: + 105 3
Pr In. one fake: indeed, it ĩs true, e that mora-
lay depends upon the will of God, who
made. us ſuch as we are, with a moral ſenſe
to: diſtinguiſh virtue from vice. But this i is
ſaying no more but that it is God's will, or
2 that i it is agrecable to him we ſhould be vit-
_ , tnons: It is another thing to maintain, that
man is indifferent to virtue and vice, and that
he is under no obligation to the one more
than to the other, unleſs ſo far as he is de-
termined by tbe, arbitrary will of a ſuperi-
or, of ſovereign. That a being may be ſo
framed 25 to anſwer this deſcription, may be
yielded. But, taking man as he is, endued
wich a moral ſenſe, tis a direct contradicti-
on to hold, that be is under no obligation to
; virtue,
LAWOFNRTURE. 95
virtue, other chan the mere will of God In
this ſenſe, morality no more depends upon
the will of pee on 1 50 our on will.
1 h gigs Air:
alt We Wal next ee doctrine,
Which may be ſet in oppoſition to the fore.
going, and that is Dr. Clarke's demonſtra-
tion of the unalterable obligation of moral
duty. His propoſition is, That, from the
eternal and neceſſary differences of things,
ehnthere naturally and neceſſarily ariſe cert
* tain moral obligations, which are of them-
i ſelves intumbent on all rational creatures,
5 antecedent to all poſitive inſtitution, and
to all expectation of reward or puniſh:
* ment. And this propoſition he demon-
. ſtrates in the following manner: © That
there is a fitneſs of certain circumſtances
_ 4 to certain perſons, and an anfitneſs of o-
<,'thers, antecedent to poſitive laws; and that,
<, from the different relations of different
«things, there ariſes a fitneſs and unfitneſs
of certain behaviour of ſome perſons. For
A inſtance, God is ſuperior to man; and
N 6 « there-
6 LAW DF NATURE,
« 24
RR: 0 4088 | 1 1
1. 00 10 Hin af
17 this 1 as it is called, be
the. only or principal foundatian of morals,
unlucky it is, that a do&tine of ſuch impbr-
tarice ſhould have fo long been hid from
the publick. The atticnth, however, catrł-
ed the obligation of morals perhapb as fur
as this eminent divine does. And now thut
the important diſcovery is made, it is ri6t
likely to do great ſervice; conſidering how
lttle the bulk of mankind are able to enter
| into abſtruſe reaſoning, ind how little influ.
ence ſuch feaſoning generally has after it is ;
Bor abſtruſeneſs is not the only impet-
fection of this celebrated atgument. It. ap-
pears to me altogether inconcluſive. Laying
aſide perception and feeling, upon which the
doctor founds no part of his demonſtration,
I ſhould be utterly at a lofs, from any given
relation betwixt perſons, to draw. a conelws
* —
W
LAW Sr bit.
gon ef the fiielFor infitne oF a "certain
courſe” of behaviour. God is our ſu-
* perlor, and therefore it is fit we ſhould
—— him.“ Hut here I put the que
Rion, upon whatptinciple of reaſon does this
edhehiſion” reſt? Where is the connedting
propoſition by means of which the infe-
renee is drawn? Here the doctor muſt be
witetly at à loſs.” For the truth of the mat-
ter is, that the terms fitneſs and 'unfitneſs,
In their preſent ſignification, depend entire-
If upon! the moral ſenſe. Fitne and unf
ne with regard to a certain end or purpoſe,
are qualities of netlons which r may be gather-
ed from experience · But fr or unfit-
neſs of actions, as importing right or wrong,
as denoting what we ought to do, or abſtain
from; have truly no meaning, Aude upon
ſoppofition of 4 moral ſenſe, which this
learned divine never once dreams of raking
into his Argument. The doftor's error there-
re is a common one, that he endeavours
t ſubſtitute reaſon in place of feeling. The
neſs of worſhipping our Creatot was obvi-
— __ ous
*
23 NF NATURE
ang to him, 2s it ĩs to every man, becaſe it
_ is founded in qur very Nature. It is equal-
1y obvious with. the preference of hqnelty to
diſhoneſty. His only miſtake is, that, over-
looking the lam written . in his own. heart,
he vainly imagines that his metaphyſical ar-
_ gument is juſt, becauſe the conſequence he
. draws from it happens to be true. And to ſa-
tisfy even his moſt devoted diſciples, that this
is the caſe, let us only ſuppoſe, that man,
by nature, had no approbatory or diſappro-
_batory, feeling of actions, it could never be
eyinced, by, any abſtract argument whatever,
Ser de warkhip of the Deity is bis duty, or,
in the moral ſenſe of fitneſs, that it is more
Kinn be honeſt than to dad
Ne wh orig eee eee
* Apr upon this head, we will . —
| kherty 10 add, becauſe it is of importance to
the, ſubje& in general, that, ſuppoſing dur
duty could be made plain to us, by an ab-
ſtract chain of reaſoning, yet we have good
ground to conclude, trom analogy, that the
Author of nature has llt our 2
10.0
LAW OF NATURE 55
be directed by ſo weak 2 principles reaſon:
anda weak principle it muſt be to the bulk
of mankind, who have little capatity tb en
ter into abſtract reaſoning; whatever effect it
may have upon the learned and contempla-
tive. Nature has dealt more kindly by us.
We are compelled by ſtrong and evident
feelings, to perform all the different dutics
of life. Self-preſervation 'is not left to the
conduct of reaſon, but is guarded by the
ſtrongeſt inſtinct, which oor us carefully,
or rather mechanically, avoid every appears
ance of danger. The propagation of the
ſpecies is enforced by the moſt importunate
of all appetites, and the care of our off.
| ſpring'by a lively and conſtant affection. Is
nature fo deficient; as to leave the duty we
coe our neighbour, which ſtands in the
fitſt rank of duties, to be directed by cool
reaſoning? This is not according to the an-
logy of nature, nor is it fact: witneſs com-
paſſion, friendſhip, benevolence, and all the
tube of the ſocial affections. Neither is
eommon juſtice left upon this footing, the
" moſt
1096 DAN DF/NAT URE:; |
moſt uſeful, tho' not the moſt exakedvirwe.
The «ranſgraſhon of it is attended wich a ſe-
vere feeling of diſapprobation, and alſo en-
foreed by other — 1 more 1
and authoritative.
451! I arc ge Hob = Ry
A es anker * whom 1 (hall juſt
mention by the way, gives a whimſical ſyſtem
of morals; He endeavours to reduce all
crimes to that of telling a lie; and, becauſe
telling a lie is immoral, he concludes, that
the ſeveral crimes he mentions are immoral.
Robbery, for example, is acting or telling a
lie; becauſe it is in effect ſaying, that the
goods I ſeiſe are mine. Adultery is ading
or telling a lie, becauſo it is in effedt main-
taining thar my neighbour's wife is not his,
but mine. But not to inſiſt upon the folly
of giving all erimes the ſame character, and
confounding their nature, it appears evident,
that, in this argument, the very thing is taken
for granted which is to be proved. For why
s it a virtual lie to rob one of his goods? fs
Rte aft 8419 e n r 95: 9t ue 1
* Woolaſton.
LAW OF NATURE. tor
it not by impoſing upon mankind, who muſt
preſume thoſe goods to be mine, which 1
take as my o /n But does not this evident-
ly preſuppoſe a difference betwixt eum and
tuum, and that T ought not to make free wich
another's property without his conſent? For
what other reaſon are the goods preſumed to
be mine, but that it is unlawful to meddle with
what belongs to another? The ſame obſerva-
tion will apply to all his other tranſmutations;
for, in acting or telling the lie, it is conſtantly
taken for granted, that the action is wrong in
itſelf, And this very wrong is the circum-
ſtance which is ſuppoſed, in the reaſoning, to
impoſe upon the ſpectators. Tha error there-
fore of this author is of the ſame nature with
Dr. Clark's, in his ſyſtem above examined.
It is an evident petitio principii: the very
thing is taken for granted which is under-
taken to be proved. With regard to the
preſent ſubject, we have no occaſion fur-
ther to obſerve of this curious author, that
when he draws ſo ſtrong conſequences from
telling a lie, it was to be expected he ſh
- + - have
102 LAW OF NATURE.
have ſet in the cleareſt light the immorality of
that action. ut this he docs not ſo much
as attempt, leaving it upon the conviction
of one's own mind. This indeed he might
ſaſely do; but not more ſafely than to leave
upon the ſame conviction all the other
erimes he treats of. 9 DEZRE OTIS inge
1
— , . *
* Sd | & 2 1 * 4 . - S # 4 : * . 4 » * =
ein 58 14 12 C: XII ei! 1 141 . SS $45 +F
* *
Kermit until d ne nte rt 3% 6057
MNGGALALL Hirt: Wohin ia * [76118
Yo JEN 393430 40011 N. Dr 30 enen
Funn Mile Act nrg de: id
„189 116 63:1258 {1&8 £3 bil cuts li
400110005 t tt t ee bt il
Ani a em, nta als to rn reti
Min ut Don bids tis ut ue Ken N
S OOO ITO n ee eee
vnn . eee ene 7mm ft 0
inte eine eee 144116
40 ol or naue s
leg nannten Cue 11/0 4%, ri, 1
Hin ioc Weiten ADA OT $36 }
ian 2000010 Afi fb £9. ba 1 Dy Bf! (43 4AM
a WV GA F 2 G0 Jo F % « # 8 * a
ee, « . 1107. WD a4) I 4% + if # CHAP:
N TN A 0
18 128 IS ome 3301 1 t 4) te Ma 81 15) Er
05 HA P. N
"Of Jus T1 3
"adn ut Wil mot ni een t.
Js TICE is chat vial: virtue which
| ene property, and gives authority to
covenants. And as it is made out above, that
juſtice, being eſſentially neceſſary to the main-
tenance of ſociety, is one of thoſe primary
virtues which are enforced by the ſtrongeſt
natural laws, it would be unneceſſary to ſay
more upon the ſubject, were it not for 2
doctrine eſpouſed by the author of a treatiſe
upon human nature, that juſtice, ſo far from
being one of the primary virtues, is not e-
ven a natural virtue, but eſtabliſhed in ſoci-
ety by a ſort of tacit convention, founded
upon a notion of public intereſt. The figure
which this author deſervedly makes in the
learned world, is too conſiderable, to admit of
his being paſt over in ſilence. And as it is of
great importance to creatures who live in ſo-
ciety, to have juſtice eſtabliſhed upon its moſt
ſolid foundation, a chapter expreſsly upon
this
| viohtion of property is utended wirh Fe-
are adapted one 0 rr perv“ and to een
104% LAW OF N ATURE.
this Way . 57 not be fel
to the reader. 2 — Kid Bib
by
p : . * 4 0
erer! 1 —— Ws 8
Our ** „ Gochime fo far * con-
cerns that branch of juſtice by which ptoper-
ty is ſecured, comes to this; that, iti a ſtate of
nature; there can be no ſuch thing as pro-
perty; and rhat the idea of property ariſes,
after juſtice is eſtabliſhed by convention,
whereby every one is ſecuted in His poſſeM-
ons. In oppoſition to this ſingular doctrine,
there is no difficalty to make out, that we
have an idea of property, antecedent to ariy
lort of agreement or convention that proper-
ty is founded on a natural principle; and that
moꝛrſe,/ and a ſenſe of breach of duty. Th
following out this ſubject, it will appear
bow:admirably the ſprings of human nature
tireumſtanices; "1 ET5: 'P 10 Ve TW ft THT
Won bn ve uw apiy co 4 2 .
12 is by nature eee
g Wen To —
2 nal
*
LAW OE NATURE. aog
nal. conſtitution his external circumſtances
are finely adapted. The ſurface of this globe
does ſcarce yield ſpontaneouſly food for the
greateſt lavagesz but, by labour and induf-
try, it is made to furniſh not only the con-
veniencies, but even the luxuries of life. In
this ſituation, it is wiſely ordered, that man
ſhould labour for himſelf and his family, by
providing a ſtock of necellaries for them, be-
fore he think of ſerving others. The great
principle of ſelf - preſervation directs him to
this courſe. Now this very, diſpoſition. of
providing againſt want, which is common to
man with many other creatures, involves
the, idea of property. The ground I culti-
vate, and the houſe I build, muſt be conſider-
ed as mine, otherways I labour to no pur-
poſe. There is a peculiar connection be-
twixt, a man and the fruits of his induſtry
felt by every. one; which is the very thing we
call property. Were all the conveniencies of
life, like air and water, provided to our
hand without labour, or were we diſpoſed
d labour for ths publck, without any "mW
1
En
10 DAW OF NATURE.
iſh affetions, there would be no ane of
property, at leaſt ſuch a ſenſe, would be ſu-
perfluous and unneceſſary. But when ſelf-
preſervation, the moſt eminent of our prin-
eiples of action, directs every individual to
tabour-for himſelf in the firſt place; man,
without a ſenſe or feeling of property, would
be an abſurd being. Every man therefore
muſt have a notion of property, with regard
to the things acquired by his own labour,
for this is the very meaning of working for
one's — e fo far, is denne con-
of! Pepe eſſentially the Ages whether
it relate to myſelf, or to another. There is
no difference, but what is felt in ſurveying
the goods of any two indifferent perſons.
And, were it conſiſtent for a man to have the
Idea of his on property, without having a
notion of property in another; ſuch a man
would be a very imperfect being, and alto-
er unqualified for ſociety. IF it could be
ade out; that ſuch is the conſtitution of
inland in general, T ſhould be much diſ-
* | poſed
LAW OF NATURE. 167
poſed to believe that we were made by a for-
tuitous coneburſe of atoms. But the con-
ſeitution of ma js mote wiſely framed; arid
mote happily achuſted to his external cit-
cumſtances. Not only man, but all provi-
dent crettutes who hate the hording quali-
ty, are endüect with the Tenſe ot feeling of
property; which effectually ſecures each indi-
vidual, in the enjoyment of the fruits of its
own labour. Arid" ageordingly we find, in
peruſing the Hiſtory f mankind; as far back
as we have any traces of it, that there ne-
ver has been, amebg any psople or Hibe, fuch
a thing as the pöſſeſfen bf goods in com-
mon. For, even before agriculture was in-
vented; when men lived upon the natural
fruits of the earth; tho" the plenty of paſ-
ture made ſeparate poffeſſions unneceſſary,
yet individuals had their own cattle; and en-
t the an een eattle mind
anew it vaſt nb bo Ceerlebhet that this
ſenſe of property is fortified by another prin-
ciple? Every man bas a pecullar affection
wt.» Pt ACE for
103 LAW OFE NATURE.
for what he poſſeſſes, excluſive of others, and
for w hat he calls his oi. He applies his
Skill and induſtry with great alacrity to im-
can be no other deciſive evidenoe, than to ap-
peal to every man s own feelings. At the ſame
ane n ee 5 e this
prove his own ſubject: his affecian to it
grows with the time of his poſſeſſion; and
he puts a much greater value upon it, than
upon any ſubject of the ſame kind oy be
Tongs to here tens gie, Woge
03 inf uch Hrn lea
Hens then is n eſtabliſhed by the
g of our natute, antecedent to all
human conventions. We are led by na-
ture to conſider goods agquired by our induſ-
try and labour as belonging to us, and as
our o .nu. Wie have the ſenſe or feeling of
property, and conceive theſe goods to be our
.-own; juſt as much as we conceive our hands,
our feet, and our other members to be our
on; and we have a ſenſe or feeling equal-
ly:clear-of the property of others. What is
here aſſerted is a matter of fact, of which there
fact
LAW OF NATURE. 09
fact, than that yours and mine are terms fa.
miliar with the greateſt ſavages, and even
with children. They muſt have feelings
which correſpond to theſe terms; other ways
en would not be un to chem .
1
| '4 |
4 this/ is not ** ah is volved inthe
| Gal or feeling of property, We not only
ſuffer pain in having our goods taken. from
us by force; for that would happen were
joey deſtroyed or loſt: by accident. We have
the feeling of yyrong andrinjuſtice.. The per-
dan ho robs. us has the ſame feeling, and
every mortal who bebolds the ——
Weg as Pon contrary to rights
UT 2H in: 2nd x IE
* it ĩs not ſufſicient to have 3
ed the foundation of our author's dodrine.
We will proceed to make ſome, obſervatieons
_ to others 1 men
3!
he pot firſt 2 to rea-
n not altogether conſiſtently in making out
his ſyſtem: » He faunds juſtice on a general
Ag} ſenſe
rr LAW OP NATUR E.
ſenſe of common) intereſt . And yet, at nb
greater diſtance than a feẽ pages, hie en dea-
vouis to make but , and does it ſuceeſsfuſ.
ly, mat puble ĩntereſt is a motive too femote
andi tod ſubhime to affect the generality of
mankind, and to operate, with any force, in
actions ſo contrary to private intereſt as are
frequently — * ne *
_ £5 00 g TPO Uo,
N r Don 2— 4 01 010 YU 295
edle dete fade abſtracdirig from the
ſenſe of property; it does not appert, that a
ſenſe of common intereſt would neceſſatily
„vad te ſuch 4 regulation, a8 that every mah
ſhould have the tmdiſturbed enjoyment of
what he has acquired by his induſtry or
£658 fortune. Suppofinng 16 ſenſe of pro-
Petty, 1 do not ſee it inconſiſtent with ſocl-
*&ty}"t6 have à Lacedemomian conſtitution,
thitt every man may lawfully take what by
addreſs he can make himſclf maſter of, with-
out force or violence. The depriving us of
that to which dee kate ao affectlon, wol
rg 40 e 29000! 41454815346 ite
l., 3. P. 59. f Vol. 3. p. 43.
*
LAV OF NATURE. 111
be doing little more than drinking in out
brook, or breathing in our air. At any rate,
ſuch a. refined regulation would never be
conſidered of importance enough, to be e-
ſtabliſhed, upon the very commencement of
ſociety. It muſt come late, if at all, and be
the efftct of long experience, and great re-
finement in the art of living. It is very true,
that, abſtaining from the goods of others is
a regulation, without which ſociety cannot
well ſubſiſt. But the neceſſity of this regu-
lation ariſes from the ſenſe of property,
without which a man would ſuffer little pain
in lofing his goods, and would have no feel-
ing of wrong or injuſtice. There does not
appear any way to evade the force of the a-
bove reaſoning, other than peremptorily to
deny the reality of the ſehſe of property.
Others may, but our author, I think, can-
not with a good grace do it. An appeal may
be ſafely made to his own authority. For
is it not evidently this ſenſe, which has ſug-
geſted to him the neceſliry, in the inſtitution
or _ fociety, to ſecure individuals in their
pol- .
|
|
|
112
poſſeſſions? He cannot but be ſenſible, that,
abſtracting from the affection for property.
the neceſſity would be juſt nothing at all.
But our feelings operate ſilently and imper-
ceptibly ; and there is nothing more com-
mon than to ſtrain for far-fetched arguments
in ſup port of concluſions which are, ſug-
3 geſted by the lf and moſt obvious ior
* N , - f Fa
CP . * : * 8 0 l % . A a 14 +4
LAW OF NATURE.
Arn IR kD obſervation is, that fore 0 our au-
thor reſolves all virtue into ſympathy, why
Tthould he with-hold the ſame principle from
| being, the foundation of juſtice? why ſhould
not ſympathy give us a painful ſenſation, in
depriving « our neighbour of the goods! he has
acquired by induſtry, as well as in depriv-
| ing him of his | lite or limb? For it is a fact
\ too, evident to be denied, that many men
are more uneaſy at the loks of their goods,
han at the! loſs of a member. a |
Arp, in in the laſt place, were juſtice only
founded on a general ſenſe of common in-
weſt
« 4 2
LAW OF NATURE. ris
kereſt, t bchoved to be the weakeſt feeling
In Hüman nature, eſpecially where injuſtice
committed againſt'a ſtranger is, with whom
we are not cofinected by any degree of bene-
„ dee Now this is contrary to all experi-
The ſenſe of injuſtice is one of the
mae that belongs to humanity, and is
attended with! many peculiar modifications,
viz. a feeling of acting contrary to the ſtrlet-
eſt obligations of duty, and a feeling of me-
rited puniſhment for the wrong committed.
Had our author but once teflected upon
telt peciiliar feelings; he never could have
been ſatisfied with the flight foundation he
giyes to Juſtice ; for theſe feelings are alto-
N unaccountable upon bis ſyſtem. [7
Tur branch of juſtice which regards
A101 fil
iſes and c covenants, appears alſo to have
Two ſolid foundation i in human nature; 3
notwithſtanding of what is laid down by our
author in two diſtin propoſitions r, That
* a a plone Would not be intelligible, | before
10. 0 ga! * * 21
11 Page 102. : ,
4
274 LAW OF NATURE.
| « human conventions had eſtabliſhed it;
« and. that even, if it were intelligible, it
« would not be attended with any moral
i « « obligation.” As man is framed for ſocie-
ty. mutual. truſt, and confidence, without
which there can be no ſociety, enter into
the character of the human ſpecies. Cor-
Wl, to theſe, are the principles of ve-
: racity and fidelity. And, in this particular,
among many, it is admirable. to. obſerve
- =
4 .
how accurately t theſe principles are adapted
t0 each other, Veracity. and fidelity would
e of no ſignificaney, were men not dilpoſ⸗
Pr to have faith, and to rely upon what is
faid 1 to them, whether i in the way of evi-
dence or engagement. F aith and truſt, on
the other hand, would be very hurtful prin-
ciples, Were mankind yoid of veracity and
fidelity: for, upon chat ſuppoſition, the
world' would be over-run with fraud and
deceit, Suppoling a a ſociety, once. eſtabliſh-
ed, the ſecurity, of property, as well as of
life, 1s "indeed eſfentially neceſlary to, itz
conũ tinuance and — 9 4 For, were
men
D
LAW OF NATURE. 115
men in danger from their fellows, the con-
dition of man behored to be the ſame with
that of ſavage animals, who, upon that 1 very 3
account, ſhun all manner of commerce. But
fidelity and veracity are ſtill more eſſential :
to ſociety, becauſe, without theſe principles;
there cannot be ſuch a thing as ſociety at
all: it could never have à beginning. Tis
juſtly obſerved by our author, that man, in
a ſolitary ſtate; is the moſt helpleſs of be-
ings; and that by ſociety alone he is en-
abled to ſupply his defects, and to acquire
a ſuperiority over his fellow creatures; that
by conjunction of forces, our power is aug-
mented; by partition of employments, we
work to better purpoſe; and, by mutual ſuc-
cour, we acquire ſecurity. But, without mu-
tual fidelity and truſt, we could enjoy none
of theſe advantages: without them, we
could not have any comfortable intercourſe
| with one another: ſo that they are neceſſa-
ry even to the conſtitution of ſociety. Hence
it is, that treachery i is the vileſt of crimes,
and what mankind have ever held in the
* utmoſt
116 LAW OF NATURE:
utmoſt abborrence: It is worſe than myr-
der, becauſe it forms a character, and is di-
rected againſt all mankind; whereas, murder
is only a tranſitory act, directed againſt a
| ſingle perſon. Infidelity is of the ſame ſpe-
cles with treachery. The efſence of both
_ crimes is the ſame, to wit, breach of truſt,
Treachery has only this aggravating circum:
ſtance, that it turns the confidence repoſed
in me, againſt the friend who truſts me.
Now breach of promiſc᷑ is a ſpecies of infi-
delity; and therefore our author has but a
ſingle choice. He muſt either maintain,
that treachery is no erime, or that breach of
promiſe is a erime. And, in fact, that it is
ſelf. The performance of a deliberate pro-
miſe has, in all ages, been conſidered as a
duty. We have that ſenſe and feeling of a
promiſe, as what we are bound to perform
by a ſtrict obligation; and the breach of pro-
miſe is attended with the ſame natural ſtings,
which attend other crimes, /cjz. remorſe,
3 merited puniſhment.
Fr
LAW OF NATURE my
Ir is evident from the above, that it is
but an imperfect conception of a promiſe to
conſider. it as our author does *, with rela-:
tion only to the perſon who makes the pre-
miſe. In this internal act two perſons are
concerned; the perſon who makes the pro-
miſe, and the perſon to whom the promiſe
is made. Were there by nature no truſt
nor reliance upon promiſes, breach of pro-
miſe would be a matter of indifferency.
Therefore the eſſence of a promiſe conſiſts
in keeping faith. The reliance upon us,
produced by our own act, conſtitutes the
obligation. We feel ourſelyes bound to per-
form: we conſider it as our duty. And
when we violate our engagement, we have'a
ſenſe of moral turpitude in diſappointing
the perſon who relied upon our fait.
Wx ſhall cloſe this ſubject, concerning the
foundation of juſtice, with a general reflec-
tion. Running over every branch of our du-
ty, 'what concerns ee as wa as our
neigh-
0 vel. 3 p- 102.
TY UAW OF NATURE.
neighbours, we find; that nature has been
more provident, than to truſt us entirely to
the guidance of cool reaſon. It is obſerved
above, that our duty is enforced by inſtinct
and appetite, as well as it is directed by rea-
ſon. Now, if man be a ſocial being, and
Juſtice eſſential to ſociety, it is not according
to the "analogy of nature, that we ſhould
be left to inveſtigate this branch of our du-
ty by a chain of reaſoning, eſpecially where
the reaſoning turns upon ſo remote an ob-
ject as that of publick good. May we not
apply to juſtice, what is ſo beautifully rea-
ſoned concerning ſociety, in a dialogue upon
- happineſs *: If ſociety be thus agreeable
. to our nature, is there nothing within us
6 to excite and lead us to it? no impulſe;
* no preparation of faculties? It would be
« ſtrange if there ſhould not.” If we are
fitted by our nature for ſociety ; if pity, be-
nevolence, friendſhip, love, the general dif-
like of folitude, and defire of company, are
_ dons all of them conducive to
ſociety,
1 7. 155. 1
LAW. OF NATURE. 4a9
ſociety, it would be ſtrange if there ſhould
be no natural affections, no preparation of
faculties, to direct us to do juſtice, which is
fo eſſential to ſociety. But nature has nor
failed us here, more than in the other parts
of ur conſtitution. We have a feeling of
property; we have a feeling of obligation to
perform our engagements; and we have 2
feeling of wrong in encroaching upon pro-
perty, and in being untrue to our engage
ments. Society could not ſubſiſt. without
theſe aſſections, more chan it could ſubſiſt
without the ſocial aſſections properly ſo call-
ed. We haye reaſon, a priori, to conclude
equally; in fayours of. both, and we find, up-
on Kg, our concluſion to be juſt.
"Y
4
C g * "
9 9 » # 12 a. . ” "= 4
* ® a . *
*, WY - ” — N. * * & . * „ 5
F
z .
| / C4 4 141 1 f TY *
-
* I . *
„„ 4 8 * . 6 py * 4
4
1 # .
*
* . . 4 "y . _ . - LL , . SE & LW
"+ 4 # C ; 1 1
« « $ & "x a — 0 „ll
22 AIT A MH 55941
Len : p '
49 1 255 0 H A P. vin.
G PRIMARY Laws FR
7 FE are now come to the thing princi-
VVpalhy intended in this effiy, which
is to pive 4 general view of the primary | laws
of naturè. Aion ought to be the end and
amof al our inquiries; Without which, moral,
a5 well as metaphyfical, reaſoning are but
empty ſpeculation.” And, as life and man-
ners are more peculiarly the object of the
motal ſcience, i it was to be expected, that the
weight and importance of the ſuhject, ſhould
have brought 3 authors to one way of think-
ing. But it is lamentable to find the world
divided about theſe primary laws, almoſt as
much as they, commonly are about the
moſt airy and abſtract points. Some au-
thors acknowledge no principle in man, but
whati is altogether ſelfiſh ; and it is curious to
obſerve how they wreſt and torture every ſo-
cial principle, to give it the appearance of ſel-
| Eſhneſs. Others exalt human nature much
above
LAW OF NATURE. 21
bove its juſt ſtandard, give no quarter to ſel-
fiſhne(s, but conſider man as bound to di-
rect every action to the good of the whole,
and not to prefet his own intereſt to that of
others. I he celebrated lord Shaftesbury goes
fo far as not to admit of any thing like par-
tial benevolence, ; holding, that if it is not
entire, and directed to the whole ſpecies, it
is not benevolence : at all. It is not difficult
to aſſign a cauſe for ſuch difference i in opini-
on; tho' it may appear ſtrange, that authors
ſhould differ ſo widely upon a ſubject, which
every man ought to be acquainted with, be-
uſe the ſubject f is his own conſtitution.
There is nothing more common in philoſo-
phy, "as well as in Ife and action, than to
build caſtles in the air. Unpatient of the
ſlow and cold meth&$d of indu ion, we fly
to ſyſtems, which every writer takes the liber-
ty of framing, according to his own taſte and
fancy. Fond of the fabric which he him-
ſelf has erected, tis far from his thoughts
to ſubjeR i it to examination, by trying whe-
Q | ther
4a LAW OF NATURE.
cher it will ſtand the teſt of ſtubborn facts.
Men of narrow minds and contracted prin-
2 naturally fall in with the ſelfiſh (yl:
The fyſtem of univerſal benevolence
| poof} courts and warm-hearted. In
the midſt of various and oppolite opinions,
the purpoſe of this eſſay is to ſearch for
truth by the patient method of induction;
and, after what is above laid down, it ic will
not de __ to find i it.
Ker us PE al that the pefuch-
ples of action furniſh motives to action, and
that the moral ſenſe is given as an inſtruc-
dor to. regulate our actions, to enforce one
motive, to reſtrain another, and io prefer
one to another, when they are in competiti-
on. Hence the laws of nature may be de-
fined to be rules oft our condui and behaviour,
founded on natural pri inciples, approved of by
the moral ſenſe, and enforced by natural Ten
In and AO:
s }
, j Th » 6d © . , 4
, « fe» 4 og & \ 1114904 93 | ; IN
” my 0 .
*
P , » . N
LAW OF NATURE. +24
I fearching for theſe laws, it muſt be
obyious, that we may ſafely indulge every
principle of action, where che action is not
diſapproved of by the moral ſenſe, and that
' we ought to perform every action which
the moral ſenſe informs us to be our duty.
From this ſhort propoſition, may be readily
deduced all the laws of nature which go-
vern human actions. Tho, in the preſent
eſſay, the duty which a man os to himſelf,
where others are W is not com-
—ů— |
abate onhetal painciples
of action, ſelf- preſervation being the leading
principle, it is hard to ſay, that any means,
ſtrictly ſpeaking, ate unlawful, to attain that
end. If two men in a ſhip-wreck get hold, at
the lame. inſtant of a plank, which is not bul-
ky enough to ſupport both, it is lawful.for
the one to thruſt off the other, in order to
fave his own life. This action is not con-
demned by the moral ſenſe: It is not at-
tended wich any feeling of wrong, | In like
#1 manner
124 LAW OFE NATURE.
manner, it is lawful: for a man to ſeize upon
food. wherever he can find; it, een
ſelf from pager ere lo gh:
34 f Dee eat
Uron the fame nh _—_ for
2 man to ſave a member of his own body, at
the expence of another's member, if both
cannot be faved. A man will ſcarce have a-
ny conſciouſneſs of wrong in ſodoing. But
it will hardly be allowed. in morality; to ſave
a member at the expence of another's life,
This matter, however, is not to be redueed
to any accurate rule. The determination of
queſtions of this kind, muſt neceſfarily vary
according to the circumſtances of the per.
ſons concerned, and according wre *
| i and ee actor. b
1 E. 5 eiern 4
6.444 wy PO
x, Toon ſecond genera] ert in point of
rank is ſelfalove, which, being a more pow-
erful principle than benevolence, it naturally
aſſumes the preference. And we meet with
no obſtruẽtion from the-moral ſenſe, when
* are, own intereſt to that of others.
ry The
4
SAW NATURE. 125
The ſame will held with regard to our Par-
neular appelites, paſſions and affections. But
here comes a remarkable limitation, that we
are not to indulge ſelf. love at the expence of
harmifig others, whether in their perſons,
goods, or reputation. The moral ſenſe, ii
every caſe, ſelf- preſervation excepted, lays
us under an abſolute reſtraint with regard to
theſe particulars. This reſtraint is felt as our
indiſpenſible duty, and the tranſgreſſion of
this duty never fails to be attended with rel
morſe, and a dread of merited puniſhment.
And this is wiſely ordered. Society could
not be preſerved without ſuch à law; and &
ven, abſtracting from ſociety, the law is eſ-
ſetitially;necefſary, to attain the ends propoſ-
ed by the two great principles of action, ſelf-
preſervation and ſelf-· love. No man could
be ſecure” of his life a moment, far leſs of
his happineſs, if men, worſe than a
ky N 2 one e Men
Tut third n which is mat of fi-
dey, is alſo in the ſtricteſt ſenſe a law of.
nature.
LAV of NATUR
nature Ma are bound to take care of aur
children, to perform our promiſes, and 49
ſtand nue to our engage ments. It need only
be obſerved upon this head, that the obli-
gatiqa is indiſpenſibla, and yiolda to no:othar
principle or law of ee eee
eee e een Aung U hmiows
ELLE” Th TT 8 141 899 e:
e eee epi gin
Vas to be ranked among. che laws: ef bar
mre. We feel it in the ſtricteſt ſenſe as our
duty. The wanſgrefſion of this law is net
only attended with-ſel{rdiſapprobation, but
a nts ART in
F "77 26 1 EI AE 104
ſh 3 ho lai principle, er
be indulged at plgafure, and without reſtraint,
unleſs where it comes in competition with a
ſtrict obligation. If it, is directed to advance
the happineſs of others; it is nat to be rank
ed, ſtrictly ſpeaking, among our duties. Be-
cauſe, tho actions of this kind are highly re-
warded by ſrlf-· approbation, and the love
ol others, yet che neglect of them is nat at-
paid | tended
EA OF NATURE. 127
tended with remorſe of puniſhment. | It ii
true, that a perſon of a ſociable and gene-
tous temper, will be ſtrongly impelled to ae.
tions of this kind, and will feel pain and
uneaſineſs upon reflecting, that he has. not
been ſo uſeful to his friends, his country, or
mankind, as he might have been. But this
uneaſineſs does not ariſe to what is properly
called remorſe, or ſelf-condemnation, tho it
may, in ſome inſtances, approach to it. There
is undoubtedly a diſtinction here, tho' it
be not eaſy to aſcertain the preciſe limits of
feelings that ate fo much allied to one ano-
ther, any more than it is to fix the exatt
boundary betwixt light and darkneſs, or to
diſtinguiſh the very laſt ſhade of any colour
in tints that run into each other. To in-
ſtance in another caſe, which belongs to the
fime head of benevolence. We are oblig-
ed to provide for our children; it is ſtrict
duty, and the neglect of it cauſes remorſe.
In the caſe of an only brother, ſuppoſe, or
ſome very near friend who depends entirely
on Gur help, we feel ſomewhat of the fame
kind
|
|
|
]
|
128 LAW OF NATURE,
kind of obligation, tho in a weaker degree;
and thus, thro” other connections, it dimi-
niſhes by ſucceſſive gradations, till at laſt the
motive to beneyolence i is loſt in ſimple ap-
probation, without any obligatory feeling.
This is univerſally the courſe which nature
bolds. . Her tranſitions are ſoft and gentle ; ;
makes things approximate ſo nicely one
to another, as to leave no gap or chaſm.
Where the object of theſe feelings can be
clearly and fully diſtinguiſhed, it may be
ſafely aſſerted, that, in che general caſe, of
procuring poſitive good to others, or ad-
Yancing, happinels, it is ſelf. approbation and
not ſtriet obligation that is felt. But where
the object of benevolence is diſtreſs, there
it becomes a duty, provided it is in our po-
er to afford relief without hurting ourſelves.
The negle& of ſuch an action is certainly at-
tended with remorſe and ſelf-condemnation ; ;
tho” poſſibly, not of ſo ſtrong a kind, as
where we betray our truft, or are the au-
thots of politive miſchief t to others. Thus
2 LY | cha-
"© * *
—
.. LAW OF NATURE. 129
chatity is, by all mankind, conſidered as a
5 to 2 are d NE Va
ends are the dus ines of " TH which
govern. our actions, comprehending both
what we may do, and what we ought to do.
And now, dropping the former to be indulg-
ed by every one at pleaſure without reſtraint,
we ſhall confine ourſelves to the latter, as
the more proper ſubject of laws, both na-
tural and municipal. And no more ſcems
to be requiſite in this matter, than clearly
10 point out our duty, by informing us of
what we ought to do, and what we ought
nat to do; ſeeing actions, which eome not
under the character of duty, may be ſafely
left ta our own choice. With regard then
ta what may be called our duty, the firſt and
primary law is the law of reſtraint, by which
we are prohibited to hurt others in their
perſons, goods, or whatever elſe is dear to
them. The ſecond is a poſitive law, that
we ought to relieve thoſe in diſtreſs. The
R omiſ-
ie LAW or NATURE.
ifion of this duty does not, cateris pork
15 affect us ſo ſtrongly with the ſenſe of
wrong, as the tranſgreſſion does of the for-
mer law. Becauſe the creating of poſitive
pain has a greater effect upon the mind,
than merely the forbcaring to relieve others
from pain; as there is a; cloſer connection
in the imagination betwixt a man and his
actions, than betwixt a man and any action
he forbears to do. Fidelity comes, in the
| third place, as a poſitive duty, comprehend-
ing the cate of our offspring, performance
of promiles, executing truſts, &c, Gratitude
takes up the fourth place of Politive duty.
And that branch of benevolence having for
ts object the adyancing the good of others,
| s up. the laſt place, which, if at all to be
| Filed among our duties, is then only to be
ranked, when it is applied to thoſe who are
5 nearly. connected with us, and to general
objects. ſuch as our town, our ee. our
ee g. 2 TON
v1 1.
LAW OF NATURE. 131
THESE ſeveral laws are admirably adjuſt-
ed: to our nature and circumſtances, and
tend in the moſt perfect manner to promote
the ends of ſociety. In the firſt place, as man
is limited with regard to power and capacity,
the above laws are accommodated to his na-
ture, ordering and forbidding nothing but
what falls within his compaſs. In the ſecond
place, peace and ſecurity in ſociety are am-
ply provided for, by tying up the hands, as
it were, of every man from harming others.
In the third place, man is prompted to the
utmoſt of his ability to be uſeful to others.
Tis his poſitive duty to relieve the diſtreſſed,
and perform his engagements. And he is
incited to do all the good he can by the
pleaſure of the action, by benevolence and
gratitude from the perſons obliged. And
laſtly, in competition betwixt himſelf and
others, tho his principles of action directed
upon himſelf, may be ſtronger than thofe
directed upon others, the fuperior rewards bY
beſtowed: by the conſtitution af our nature
s | upon
33 H&W DE/NATURE:
pail the latter, may be deemed a fuffixi-
. ent! counterdbalaince a. 4 g e
the Kd e [Oo This 4 4 e e
£01442) 3,46 190 2008 | * 10 12 {4880
Ir nnd ben ſtrange; chat the tuned
law-of all countries is ſo little regardful of
the laws of nature, as to adopt but a vety =
few of them. There never was a poſitive
law in any country, to puniſh ingratitude, if
it was not among the antient Perſians. There
is no poſitive law to enforee compaſſion,
and to relieve; thoſe in diſtreſs, if the main-
tenance of tha poor be excepted, whichy in
ſome countries; ĩs provided for by law. No-
notice is taken of breach of friendſhipꝭ by
ſtatute, nor of the duty we owe our children,
further than of ſupporting them while they
are under age. But municipal laws, being
of human invention, are of no great extent.
tions, further than as expreſt by outward
acts. And theſe are to be judged: of tanti-
n and wich reſerve; F nuf they farm
ett a lan-
LAW DEF/NATURE 133
a language, dark, and at beſt full of ambigu-
ities." At the ſame time, the object of ht»
man laws is man, conſidered: ſingly in the
quality of a citizen. When ſociety is form-
od, and government ſubmitted. to, every pri-
vate right is given up, incunſiſtent with ſo-
ciety and government. But, in every other
reſpect, individuals reſerve their independen-
ey and their private rights. Whether a man
be virtuous, is not the concern of the ſocie-
ty, at leaſt not of its laws; but only whe
ther he tranſgreſs thoſe regulations, which
are neceſſary to the preſervation of ſociety.
In this view, great attention is given by the
legiſlature in every country, to enforce the
natural law of geſtraint from mutual hurt
and injury. The like attention is given, to
enſorce the natural obligation of fidelity, at
leaſt ſo far as relates to commerce; for, inti-
delity in love and kriendſip are left to the
natural law. Ingratitude is not puniſhed
by. human, laws ; becauſe it may be guard-
ed * by poſitive engagements; nor
hard-
134 LAWOE NAT HRE.
Hard-heartedneſs with regard to objects of
iſtrels, becauſe ſociety may ſubſiſt without
eh 2 law; and mankind are ſearce yet ar-
Sg %
Low an enen of this erime, fulficient
to o make i it an object of human puniſhment.
£
"TR ERE is another Cabſtantal reaſon,
Which confines human laws within a much
narrower compaſs, than the laws of nature.
It is effential to human laws, that they be
clear, plain, and readily applicable to parti-
cular caſes; without which, judges would be
arbitrary, and law made a handle for oppref-
ſion. For this reaſon, none of our actions
can be the object of poſitive law, but what
are reducible to a preciſe rule. Ingratitude
therefore cannot be the object of human
laws, becauſe the quality of the crime de-
pends upon a multiplicity of circumſtances,
which can never be reduced to a preciſe rule.
Duty to our children, friends and relations
+ Is, with _ to moſt circumſtances, in the
4 ſame
LAW or NATURE. 135
ſime caſe. The duty of relieving the Al
ttelſed, in like manner, depends upon many
circumſtances, the nature of the diſtreſs, the
connection betwixt the parties, the oppor-
tunity and ability of affording relief. The
abſtinence from mutual harm, and the per-
formance of | promiſes are capable -to be
brought under a preciſe rule, and theſe only
are tho Om of human . 7
3 4
—
» CHAP.
|
|
|
|
|
|
7 r r ene
* 1 CHA D. IX. * . 5
. Law of Nats Tons.
7 we can iſh hiſtory, the original inha-
: bitants of this earth were 2 brutiſh and
favage race. And we have lirele reaſon to
doubt of the ſact, ben, even at this day,
we find the fame Toft of people in diſtam
corners, who have no communication with
the reſt of mankind. The ſtate of nature
is accordingly repreſented by all writers, as
a ſtate of war; nothing going on but rapine
and bloodſhed. . From this picture of the
firſt men, one would be apt to conclude;
that man, by nature, is a wild and rapacious
animal, little better than a beaſt of prey, but,
for his inclination to ſociety, which moulds
him gradually into a rational creature. If
this concluſion be juſt, we cannot help being
in ſome pain for the principles above laid
- down. Brutiſh manners imply bratiſh prin-
: ciples of action; and, from this view of the
Ffiginal ſtate of mankind, it may ſeem that
885 moral
LAWOF NATURE. 137
moral virtues are not natural, hut acquired
by means of education and example in a well
regulated ſociety. In a word, that the whole
moral part of our ſyſtem is artificial, as Jultiec
aer by a late writer. 1
'Bu T to be. ſatisfied of * fallacy of
thiscoadhuion; we need only look back to
what has already been ſaid upon the moral
ſenſe. If the feeling of beauty and defor-
mity in external exiſtences be natural 10
man, the feeling of beauty and deſormity,
and of a right and wrong in actions, is equ-
ally ſo. And indeed, whatever be the influ-
ence of education and example, tis an evident
truth, that they can never havę the power of
cteating any one ſenſe. or feeling. They
may well have the effect of cheriſhing and
improving the plants of nature's formatian,
but they cannot introduce any ne ar ori-
ginal plant whatever. We myſt therefore
atttibnte the above appearances to ſome other
cauſe than want of the moral ſenſe; and
chels Appearances may eaſily be e
e 8 or,
*
138 LAW OF NATURE.
for, from peculiar circumſtances, that are
ſufficient to over balance the moſt. vigorous
operations of the moral ſenſe, and to pro-
duce, in a good meaſure, the ſame eſſects
which would reſult from a total abſence of
that ſenſe. Let us point out theſe circumſtan-
ces, for the ſubject is worthy of our ſtriqteſt
attention. The original ſituation of man-
Kind will, in the firſt place, be attended to,
when the earth was uncultivated, and in a
great meaſure barren; when there was a
ſcarcity of inſtruments for raiſing: habitati-
ons, and a greater ſcarcity of manufactures
| to ſupply the neceſſities of life. In this ſtate,
man was a moſt indigent creature, and, up-
on the principle of ſelf· preſervation, intitled
to ſupply his wants the beſt way he could,
vithout any obſtruction from the moral
ſenſe. Thus there behoved to be à con-
ſtant oppoſition of intereſts, and of conſe-
quence perpetual diſcord. At the ſame time
there being no eſtabliſhed rules of conduct
0 appeal to, nor judges to apply rules to
ne, wars of old behoved to be
8 at
LAW OF NATURE. 139
at leaſt as frequent as law ſuits are at pre-
ſent. In this "ſtate; 'barbarity, roughneſs,
and cruelty formed the character of the hy-
man ſpecies. For, in the practice and ha-
bit of war, the malevolent principles gain
ſtrength and vigour, as the benevolent prin-
ciples, do by the arts of peace. And to this
conſideration may be added, that man is by
nature ſhy and timorous, and conſequently
cruel when he gets the upper-hand. The
ſecurity obtained in ſoclety puts an end in
2 great meaſure to our fears. Man becomes
a magnanimous and generous creature, not
eaſily daunted, and therefore not eaſily 271
3 to as of cruelty."
| AI may be obſerved, in the next place,
that the rude and illiterate are governed by
their appetites and paſſions, more than by
general principles. We have: our firſt im-
preſſions from particular objects. "Tis-by
education and pra ice that we acquire a fa-
cility in forming complex ideas, and abſtract
' propolitions. The ideas of a common inte-
144. reſt,
140 LAW; QF NATURE.
reſt,.. of a country, of a people, of a ſociety
under government, of pu blick good, ate
complex, and not ſoon acquired even by the
thinking part of man kind. I bey are ſcarce
ever to be acquired by the rude and illite-
rate; and conſequently do not readily. be-
game the object of any of theic affections.
One s own, intereſt, conſidered in general, is
os complex an object for the bulk of man-
ind; and therefore i it is, chat the particular
appetites. and, paſſions are ſtronger motiycs
10 action with the ignorant, and unthinking,
than the principle of ſelf· love, or even than
of ſelf-preſervation, hen it is not incited
by ſome particular object which threatens
danger. And the ſame muſt hold more
ſirongly with regard to the affections of be-
nevolence, charity and ſuch like, when there
is no particular object i in view, but * in
general the; good of others. |
4,7 4 eln. lr ien!
MAN 8 machine, dr
various principles of motion, which may be
-CONCSIVEd. as lo, un ſpriops and weights,
nn. | coun-
counteracting and balancing one another.
Theſe being accurately adjuſted,” the moye-
ment of life is beautiful, becauſe regular and
uniform. But if ſome ſprings or weights be
withdrawn, thoſe which remain, acting how
without oppoſition from their antagoniſt
forces,will diſorder the balance; and derange
the whole machine. Remove thoſe prineĩ-
ples of action which operate by reflection,
and whoſe objects are complex and general
ideas, and the neceſſary conſequence will be,
to double the force of the appetites and paſ-
ſions, pointing at particular objects; which
| is always the caſe with thoſe who a& by
ſenſe, and not by reflection. They are ty⸗
ranniſed by paſſion and appetite, and have
no conſiſtent rule of conduct. No wondety
that the moral ſenſe is of no ſufficient au-
thority to command obedience in ſuch a
caſe, This is the character of ſavages. We
have no reaſon then to conclude, from the a-
bove picture, that even the greateſt ſavages
are deſtitute of the moral ſenſe. Their defect
rather lies i in the weakneſs of their general
prin-
he DAW OF NATURE
_ pfinciptes of action, whick terminate in ob!
jects too complex for ſavages readily to com-
| prehend. This defect is remedied by educati-
on and reflection; and then it is, that the mo-
ral ſenſe, tn concert with theſe general ret
ples, acquires its full authority, which is op-
hy ITY and chearfully — t.
Ar Men!
Tur contemplation is beautiful when we
compare our gradual improvement in know-
ledge and in'morality We begin with fur-
veying particular objects, and lay in a ſtock
of fimple ideas. Our affections keep pace,
being all directed to particular objects; and,
during this period, we are governed princi:
pally by our paſſions and appetites. So
ſoon as we begin to form complex and ge-
neral ideas, | theſe' alſo become the objects
ol our affectlons. Then it is, that love to
bur country begins to exert itſelf, benevo-
lence to our neighbours and acquaintances,
affection to our relations as ſuch. We ac-
_ huire by degrees the taſte of public good,
and of * uſeful in life. The om”
| Q=
LAW OPNATURB. 143
ſociety thicken upon us. The ſelfiſh paſli-
ons are tamed and ſubdued, and the ſocial
aſſections gain the aſcendant. We refine
upon the. pleaſures of ſociety, becauſe our
" happineſs principally conſiſts in ſocial inter-
-courſe. We learn to ſubmit our opinions,
We affect to give preference to others, and
readily accommodate ourſelves to every thing
which may render ſociety more complete.
The malevolent paſſions, above all, are
brought under the ſtricteſt culture, if not to-
tally eradicated. Inſtead of unbounded re-
venge for the ſmalleſt injury, we acquire 2
degree of ſelf- denial to overlook trifling
wrongs, and in greater wrongs to be fatisfi-
ed with moderate reparation.
V1
*
Ar the ſame time, it is inns: that the mo-
ral ſenſe, tho rooted in the nature of man,
admits of great refinements by culture and
education. It improves gradually like our
other powers and faculties, till it comes to
be productive of the ſtrongeſt as well as moſt
delicate feelings. To clear this point, eve-
iy
: xIFbnement of taſte, which, bei
% LAW:OF NATURE.
y one mult he ſenſible of the great advait-
tages of education and Imitation. The moſt
poliſhed nations differ only en favages in
ng productive
of nice and deliegte feelings; is -- ſource of
Pleaſure and pain, more exquiſite than fave
Ses 216 ſuſceptihle of. Hence it is, that ma-
ny ee Which make little impreſſion up-
on ſavages, appear to us elegant and beauti-
ful. As on the other hang, actions, which give
' theni no pain, raiſe in us avceſion and dif-
ot. This way be illuſtrated by a compa-
riſon bet wit the Engliſh ; and French dra-
_ matic performances. The Engliſh, a rough
and hardy people, take delight-in repreſen-
rations, which more refined manners render
inſupportable to their neighbours. The diſ-
rrefles, on the other hang, repreſented on
the French theatre, are too. {light for an En-
gliſm; audience. Their paſſions are not raiſ-
ed: they feel no concern. In general, hor-
ror, which denotes the higheſt degree of
jy and averſion that mn be raiſed by a
arſh ation, i 1 a paſſion ſeldom Felt among
flerce
AW bf NATURE. 145
fierce and ſavage nations where humanity is
little regurded- But, when the tender affec-
tions art improved by ſociety, horror is more
caſtly raiſed, and objects which move hor-
OR more e e nenen.
WII n nbi *
Tur ee eee out
bother ſenſes in their gradual refinement, but
receives additional ſtrength upon every oc-
caſton from tlieſe other ſenſes For example,
4 ſavage, enured to acts of 'cruelty, feels little
Pain or averſion in putting an enemy to death
in cold blood, and conſequently will have no
remorſe at ſuch at action, other than what
proeceds from the moral ſenſe, acting by its
native ſtrength. But let us ſuppoſe a per-
ſon of ſo delicate feelings, as ſcarce to en-
dure a common operation of phlebotomy, |
and who cannot behold, without ſome de-
gree of horror, the amputation: of a frac-
tured member; ſuch a perſon wilt be ſhock-
ed to the higheſt degree, if he ſee an enemy
put to death in cold blood. The grating e-
* thus raifed' in him, muſt communi-
; T cate
yy LAW-OP/NATURE.
cate itſelf to the feelings of the moral ſenſe,
and render them much more acute And
thus, refinement in taſte; and manners, -0pe-
rating, by communication upon the, moral
ſenſe, occaſions a ſtronger feeling of immo ·
rality in every vicious action, than what
would ariſe. before ſuch reſinement. At the
Game time, the moral ſenſe improves. in its
| delicacy, as well as the other ſenſes; where-
by a double effect is produced, owing to a
double cauſe. And therefore, upon the
whole, the operations of the moral ſenſe in
a ſavage, bear no proportion to its operations
in a perſon, who ſtands poſſeſſed of all the
advantages which human nature is ſuſgep-
tible * 0 refined TO. r.
* NEVER u file FTW deſeripti-
on given of the law of nations, commonly ſo
called, that it is a la eſtabliſhed among na-
tions by common conſent, for regulating
their conduct with regard to each other.
Tbis foundation of the law of nations I take
ta e chimerieal. F or, upon what occaſion
* ; Was
_
aa: *
EAW OP NATURE. 147
Ms this covenant made, and by whom?
If/it be fad, that the ſenſe of common
good gradually brought this law into force
J anſwer, That the ſenſe of common good
is too complex, and too remote an object to
be a ſolid foundation for any poſitive law,
if it has no other foundation in our na-
ture. But there is no neceſſity to recur to
ſo flender a foundation. What is juſt now
obſerved will lead us to a more rational ac-
_ Eount'sf theſe laws. They are no other
bur gradual refinements of the original law
of nature, accommodating itſelf to the im-
proved ſtate” of mankind. © The law of na-
ture, which is the law of « our nature, can-
not be ſtationary.” It muſt vary with the
nature of man, and conſequently refine gra-
dually as human hature refines. Putting an
enemy to death in cold blood, is now look-
ed upbn with diſtaſte and horror, and there-
fore is immoral; tho” it was not always ſo in
the fame degree.” It is conſidered as barba-
Tous and inhuman, to fight with'poifoned
weapons, and therefore is more*remarkably
ned | "a
ag} LAW OF NATURE
diſapproved of. by the moral. ſenſc; chan it
was originally. Influenced by general ob-
jects, we haye enmity againſt France. Which
is our natural enemy; but this enmity in nat
directed againſt individuals; conſcious as we
are, that it is the duty of ſubjedts to ſerve
their king and country. Therefore we treat
| priſoners of war with humanity: - And now
it is creeping in among civilized nations,
that, in war, a cartel ſhould be eſtabliſhed
for exchange of prifoners. The function of
an embaſſador has ever been held ſacred.
Jo treat him ill was originally immoral,
becauſe it is treating as an enemy the man
who comes to us with friendly intentions.
But the improved manners of latter times,
have refined, upon the privileges of an em-
baſſador, and extended them far beyond
what they were originally. It is very true,
that cheſe refinements of tha law of na-
5 gain ſtrength and firmneſs by cuſtom.
Hereby they acquire the additional ſupport
of common conſent. For, as every nation
ute that the. laws will be obſeryed, it is
b upon
LAW OF NATURE. 149
upon that account a breach of faith to tranſ-
greſs them. But this is not peculiar to theſe
particular inſtitutions which paſs under the
name of the law of nations. There is the
ſame adventitious foundation for all the laws
of nature, Which every man truſts will be
obſerved, and upon that faith directs his con-
ESSAY
bd
PP %˙%ͤ—ms ẽůwe — — ——— — — — — ow
\
1 & T3 k
P , „ Sa
S445 41 FY FS 2
*
* — mo —
en
f
* 4 L 1
£53 IDA £334
*
+
n y
#Y.F18 4
7
* II . oe od bs As
£20 £306 ne Lal 42 il fine
A e
4
„ 4 * *
.c "I.
"
15
EE
S412 (1; 9. * .
* 1911 +, ++ : 1.
* *
»
Lonnie
4 * 117 * 4
NL s . PF 4 * * ry 330 * by % }
"IE EE TAESS WR.
4 N
4
454417
7 $3
Mo 1 D is S 614 51 IT |
ESSAY III.
genre and NxcgSSITY,
Ti;
HEN we apply-our Gg to the
coontemplation of final cauſes, nd
ſubject more readily preſents itſelf than the
natural world, which is ſtamped with the
brighteſt charaRers of wiſdom and goodneſs:
The moral world, being leſs in view, has
been generally overlooked, tho it yields not
to the other in rich materials. Man's in-
ward ſyſtem, accurately ſurveyed, will be
found not leſs admirable than the external
ſyſtem, of which he makes a part. The
ſubje is the more curious, that the traces
of wiſdom and deſign, diſcernible in our in-
ternal frame, ly more out of common ſight.”
They are touches, as it were, of a- finer
pencil, and of a nicer hand, than are diſco-
vered in the natural world. Thought is more
ſabtile than motion, and more of exquiſite
art is diſplayed in the laws of voluntary ac-
tion,
„ LIBERTY, |
tion, than there is ww * in e the
laws of met& matter. © © :!
Ia ; 3
AN extreme beantifal ſcene opens | to our
view, when we conſider with what propri
1y;the ideas) feelings, and whole. conſty
08; of; the mind, of man; coreclpond-to hi
preſent ſtate. Ihe impreſſions. he receives,
and he notions he forms, are accurately ad-
apted- to the uſeful purpoſes of life, tho!
chey do not correſpond in every inſtance ic
the philoſophic truth of things... It was net
intended that man ſhould make profound
diſcoveries. . Heis framed to be more an
actiye than a contemplative being and his
views bock of the, natural and moral world
are ſo adjuſted; as to be made ſubſervient to
coxreftneſs of jon. rather than of belief,
Seyeral inſtances there are of, perceptions,
which, for want of a more proper term,
may be called deceitful; becauſe they differ
from, the real truth. But man is not there ·
by in the leaſt miſled. On the contrary.
che ends of life and action are better pro-
___ vided
AND NECESSIT TV. 153
vided | for by ſuch: artifice, than if theſe per-
ceptions were more exact e of their ob-
ah | | ) .
pi the natural world, ſamewhat of this
| kind i is generally admitted by modern phi.
loſophers. It is found, that the repreſentati-
ons of external objects, and their qualities
conyeyed by the ſenſes, ſometimes differ
from what philoſophy diſcovers theſe ob-
jeQs, and their qualities to be. Thus a ſur-
face appears {ſmooth and uniform, when its
roughneſs is not ſuch, as to be hurtful. The
ſame ſurface, examined with a microſcope,
is found to be full of ridges and hollows,
Were man endowed with a microſcopic eye,
the bodies that ſurround him, would appear
as different from what they do at preſent,
as if he were tranſported into another world.
His ideas, upon that ſuppoſition, would in-
deed be more agreeable to ſtrict truth, but
they would be far leſs ſerviceable in com-
mon life. F urther, it is now univerſally
admitted, that the qualities called ſecundary,
» <4: 1:
24. EF
which we by natural inſtin&- attribute
to matter, belong not properly to matter,
nor exiſt really without us. Colour in
particular is a ſort of viſionary beauty, which
nature has ſpread over all her works. It is
2 wonderful artifice, to preſent objects to
us thus differently diſtinguiſhed: to mark
them out to the eye in various attires, ſo as
to be beſt known and remembered: and to
paint on the fancy, gay and lively, grand and
ſtriking, or ſober and melancholy ſcenes:
whence many of our moſt pleaſurable and
moſt affecting ſenſations ariſe. Vet all this
beauty of colours, with which heaven and
earth appear clothed, is a ſort of romance
and illufion. For, among external objects,
to which colours are attributed by ſenſe,
therei is really no other diſtinction, than what
arifes from 'a difference in the fize and ar-
rangement of the conſtituent parts, where-
by the rays of light, are reflected or re-
fracted in fuch different ways, as to paint
Various colours on the retina of the eye.
From this, and other inſtances of the fame
ind which might be adduced, it appears,
that
AND NECESSIT v. 155
chat our perceptions ſome times, are leſs ac-
commodated to the truth of things, than to
the end for which our ſenſes are deſigned.
Nature, at the ſame time, has provided a re-
medy; for ſhe ſeldom or never leaves us
without means of diſcovering the deception;
and arriving at the truth. And it is won-
derful, that, even when we act upon theſe de-
ceitful impreſſions, -we are not betrayed in-
to any thing that is hurtful. On the con-
trary, life and action are better provided for,
and the ends of our being fulfilled to more
advantage, than if we conducted ourſelves
e neee — )
Bf us carry on this ſpeculation Rom
the natural to the moral world, and examine
whether there are not here alſo, analogous
inſtances of deceitful impreſſions. This will
lead us into an unbeaten tract. We are to
open a ſcene entirely new; which, like moſt
other things that are new, may perhaps
ſurprize the reader. But he will ſuſpend
his a till he has leiſurely reviewed
the
156 7 FBERIFYT A
the whole: and; then! let him pronounce;
Whether our hypotheſis does not ſolve all
the phenomena :, whether it does nbt tally
Vith the nature of man, and illuſtrate the
eee om as e his
nature. ;
O
That i can 3 — a dune
5 is a pringiple embraced. by all men, the illi-
_terate and ignorant as well as the learned.
Nothing that happens is conceived as hap-
pening of itſelf, but as an efe& produced
by ſome other thing. However ignorant
of the cauſe, we notwithſtanding conclude,
that every event muſt have a cauſe. We
ſhould, perhaps be at a. loſs to dedyee this
principle, from any premiſes, by a chain of
reaſoning :., but. feeling affords conviction,
where reaſon leaves us in the dark. We
perceive, we feel the propoſition to be true.
And, indeed, a ſentiment, common to all,
muſt be founded on the common nature of
all. Curioſity is one of the earlieſt paſſions
| ther arp diſcovered in children; and their
eurioſity
AND NECESSITY. 157
curioſity runs on nothing more than to have
cauſes and reaſons given them, why fuch a
thing happened,” or how it came about.
| Hiſtorians and politicians make it their chief
concern, to trace the cauſes, of actions, the
moſt myſterious not excepted. Be an event
ever ſo extraordinary, the feeling of its be-
ing an effect, is not in the leaſt weakened,
even with the vulgar, who, rather than af-
ſign no cauſe, recur to the operation of in-
viſible powers. What is a cauſe with re-
ſpect to its proper effect, is conſidered as an
effect with reſpect to ſome prior cauſe, and
ſo backward without end. Events thus
viewed, ina train of cauſes and effects, ſhould
naturally be conſidered, one would think,
as neeeſſary and fixed: for the relation be-
twixt à cauſe and its effect implies ſome-
what preciſe and determinate, and leads our
thoughts to what muſt be, and cannot be © o-
nnn it *. 0 * 27
20 Thar we have ſuch a feeling as is above
"deſcribed, 'is not to be conttoverted: and
Dine yet,
l
}
1
|
[
1
{i
!
|
N
'
133 LIBERTY
yet, when we ſearch further. into human
nature, à feeling of an oppoſite kind is diſ-
covered, a feeling of chance or contingency
in events; which is not leſs deeply rooted in
our nature than the former. However ſtrange
it may appear, that man ſhould be com-
poſed of ſuch inconſiſtencies, the fact muſt
notwithſtanding be admitted. This feeling
of chance or contingency is moſt conſpicu-
ous, when we look forward to future events.
Some things we indeed always conſider, as
certain, or neceſſary, ſuch as the revoluti-
on of ſeaſons, and the riſing and ſetting of
the ſun. Theſe, as expefience teaches, are
regulated by fixed laws. But many things ap-
Pear to us looſe, fortuitous, uncertain. Uncer-
tain not only with reſpect to us, on account
of our ignorance of the cauſe; but uncertain
In themſelves, or not tied down, and prede-
termined to fall out, by any invariable law.
We naturally make a diſtinction betwixt
things that muſt be, and things that may be,
or may not be. Thus we have a feeling of
Chance or xr of contingency in events, in which
that
* . bs
AND NECESSITY. 159
that other feeling, of the dependency of e-
vents upon — and mn n
8 to N | |
Wren we conſider in whit view our |
own actions are petecived by the mind, there
is ſomething which is equally ſtrange and
ſurpriſing. It is admitted by all men, that
we act from motives. The plain man, as
well as the philoſopher, feels the congecti-
on betwixt an action and its motive, to be
ſo ſtrong, that, from this feeling, both of
them' reaſon with full confidence abbut the
future actions of others. That an avariti-
ous man, will take every fair opportunity of
cquiring riches, is as little doubted, as that
— and fun- ſhine will make plants grow.
Why, but becauſe the motive of gain, s
judged to operate, as certainly and infallibly,
upon his temper, as heat and moiſture upon
the foil, each to produce its proper effect?
If we are uncertain what part a man will
act, the uncertainty ariſes, not from our
doubring whether he will act from a mo-
tive; ';
|
260 LIBERTY
tive; for this 3 is never called in * ir
ariſes from our not being able to judge, what
the motive is, which, in his preſent circum-
ſtances, will prevail. It being then a natu-
ral feeling, that actions are ſo connected with
their proper motives, as neceſſarily to ariſe
from the temper, character, and other cir-
| cumſtances of the agent, it ſhould ſeem,
that all the train of human actions, would
occur to our minds As neceſſary and fixed.
Vet human actions do not always appear
to us in this light. It is a matter of fact,
that the feeling varies, according to the dif-
ferent poſitions, of the object. Previous to
any particular action, we indeed always
judge, that the action will be the neceſſary
reſult of ſome motive. But has a man done
what is wrong and ſhameful? Inſtantly the
feeling varies. We accuſe, and we condemn
him, for ating. the wrong and ſhameful
part. We conceive that he had a power of
acting otherways, and ought to have ated
otherways. The whole train of our feelings,
in a moment, accommodate themſelves to
the
— 11
19114
AND NECESSITY. 167
| 'the ſuppoſition of his 1 entirely . he
een
eden are aa in hüman na-
ture, of a very ſingular xind: feelings, which
on both ſides are natural, and yet claſh with
each other: every event admitted to have
a neceſfary eauſe; and yet many events fup-
poſed contingent: every action admitted ne-
ceſtarily ꝛo flow from à determining motive;
and yeg the fame action, in an after view,
_ conſidered and judged of as free. Our feel-
Ings are no doubt the teſt of truth ; which is
fo evident, that, in many inſtances, no other
means are afforded us for coming at the
vered by reaſon or experience, ſerve rhe
mot to confirm the general rule. But the
-feelings. we have now laid open can be no
teſt of truth; becauſe, in contradictory pro-
poſitions, truth cannot ly on both fides.
There is no other way to get ont of this la-
byrinth of doubts and difficulties, than to
enter upon a ſtrict ſurvey both of the natu
X ral
46 % LIZ EBRT T
ral and kind world, which may poſſibly
lead to a diſcovery of what is really the
truth of the matter. -Let us then proceed,
with impartiality and attention, to inquire
what we are to believe, concerning contin-
gency in events, and liberty or neceſſity in
human actions: whether our feelings can be
reconciled to each other, and reconciled to
truth; or whether there be not here ſome of
thoſe deccitful feelings, which we have al-
ready hinted in ane Aker: o to be-
of ere erer
12 1 view * the aac we
. find all things there proceeding in a fixed
and ſettled train of cauſes and effects. It is a
point which admits of no diſpute, that all
the changes produced in matter, and all the
different modifications it aſſumes, are the re-
ſult of fixed laws. Every effect is for pre-
eiſely determined, that no other effect could,
in ſueh circumſtances, have poſſibly reſult-
ed. from che operation of the cauſe: which
| hglds even in the minuteſt changes of the
WE wo 4 | dif-
AND NECESSITY. 163
different elements, as all philoſophers ad-
mit. - Caſual. and fluctuatiug as theſe ſeem,
their ſmalleſt variation is a neceſſary effect of
pre- eſtabliſned laws. There is a chain of
eauſes and effects which hang one upon an-
other, running thro' this whole ſyſtem;
and not the ſmalleſt link of the chain can
be broken, without altering the whole con-
ſtitution of things, or ſuſpending the regu-
lar operation of the laws of nature. Here
then, in the material world, there is nothing
that ean be called contingent ; nothing that
is left looſe; but every thing muſt be preciſe-
ly what it is, and be found in that ſtate in
which's we find it. |
| Is the moral world, this does not appear
ſo clearly. Man is the actor here. He is
endowed with will; and he acts from choice.
| He has a power of beginning motion, which
is ſubject to no mechanical laws; and there-
fore he is not under what is called phyfical
neceſſity. He has appetites and paſſions
_ prompt him to * reſpective gratifi-
; cations
i —— —U— — —
164 LIBERTY |
cations: but he is under no neceflity of blind
ly ſubmitting to their impulſe. For reaſon
has a power of reſtraint. It ſuggeſts motives
ſtom the cool views of good and evil. He de-
liberates upon theſe. In conſequence of his
deliberation he chuſes: and here, if any-
where, lyes our liberty. Let us examine to
what this liberty amounts. That motives
haveſome inflaence indetermining the mind,
| is ceftain; and that they have this influence
in different degrees, is equally certain, The
ſenſe of | honour and gtatitude, for in-
ſtance, - are powerful motives to ſerve a
friend. Let the man's private intereſt/con-
cur; and the motives become more power-
ful. Add the certain proſpe& of poverty,
ſhame, or bodily ſuffeting, if he ſhall act a
different. part; and you leave him no choice:
the motives to action are rendered irreſiſt ·
idle. Motives being once allowed to have
2 determining force in any degree, it is ea-
fy to ſuppoſe the force ſo augmented, by ac-
cumulation of motives, as to leave little free-
dom to the mind, or rather none at all. In
| 2 ſuch
AND NECESSITY. 165
ſuch inſtances, there is no denying that we
are under a neceſſity to act. And tho this,
to be ſure, is not phyſical neceſſity, as ariſe
ing not from the laws of matter, but ftom
the conſtitution of the mind; yet the con-
ſequence is equally certain, fixed and una-
voidable, in the caſe of moral, as of phyfical
neceſſity. This is ſo true, that, in ſome in-
ſtances, theſe two kinds of neceſſity ſeem to
coincide, ſo as ſcarcely to be diſtinguiſhed,
A criminal walks to the ſcaffold in the midit
of his guards. No man will deny that he is
under an- abſolute neceſlity in this. caſe.
Why? becauſe he knows, that if he refuſes
to go, they will drag him. I ask, Is this a
phyſical, or a moral neceſſity? The anſwer,
at firſt view, is not obvious; for the dif-
_ tindion betwixt theſe two ſeems loſt. And
yet, ſtrictly ſpeaking, it is only a moral ne-
ceſſity: for it isthe force of a motive which
_ determines the criminal to walk to the [cat-
fold ; to wit, that reſiſtance is vain, becauſe
the guards are neither to be forced nor
ver,
266 LIBERT T
ver, in the minds of the ſpectators, when
* they view the criminal in this ſituation, is
not leſs ſtrong; than if they ſaw him bound
and carried on a ſledge. Nothing is more
common, than to talk of an action which
done muſt do, and cannot avoid. He was
compelled to it, we ſay; and it was impoſ-
ſible he could act other ways: when, at the
ſame time, all the compulſion we mean, is
only the application of ſome very ſtrong mo-
tive to the mind. This ſhows, that, in the
judgment and feeling of all mankind, a mo-
tie may, in certain circumſtances, carry in
it the power of rendering an action neceſſa-
ry. In other words, we expect ſuch an ac-
tion in conſequence of ſuch a motive, with
cqual confidence, as when we expect to ſee
a ſtone fall 1 Wann In is ou
| een IAST VIB
Tuts, irwill de lad may bold! in ſome in-
FR but not in all. For, in the greater part
of human actions, there is a teal feeling of
' liberty. When the mind heſitates bętwixt
r two
* 4 1
*
AND. NECESSIT V. 67
two things, examines and compares, and at laſt
comes to a reſolution, is there any compulſi-
on or neceſſity here? No compulſion, it ĩs
gtanted; but as to neceſſity, let us pauſt
and examine more accurately. The reſolu-
tion being taken, the choice being made,
pan what is it founded? ee
no mortal ever came to a derermlnation,with-
out the influence of ſome motive or 6ther.
If this be an undoubted fact, it follows of
conſequence, that the determination muſt
reſult, from that motive, hieh has the great-
eſt influence for the time; or from what ap-
pears the beſt and moſt eligible upon the
whole. If motives be of very different
kinds, with regard to ſtrength and influence,
which we feel to be the caſe; it is involved
in the very idea of the ſtrongeſt motive, that
it muſt have the ſtrongeſt effect in determin-
ing the mind. This can no more be ddubt-
ed of, than that, in a balance, the 3
* muſt turn the ſcalGee.
: | HERE
ww. LIBERTY
| dE Wees
2e not always rational in their determinati-
ons: they often act from whim, paſſion,
| Humour, things as looſe and variable as the
wind; This it admitted. But; ſuppoſe the
moet which determines the mind, to be as
| whimſical and unreaſonable as you pleaſe,
i inflierice, however, is equally neceſſary
_ with that of the moſt rational motive. An
Indoterit man, for inflanee; ls ineited tO ac-
on; dy tho ſtrengeſt conſiderations, which
Seaſon; virtue, intereſt, can ſuggeſt. He wa-
vers and befitätes; at laſt refiſts them all,
and ſolds his arms. What is the cauſe of
is Is it that he is leſs under the power of
motives than another man? By no means.
The love of reſt is his motive, his prevail-
ing paſſion: and this is as eſſectual to fix him
in his place, as the love of glory or riches
Atte; to render active, the vain or the covetous.
Ila fort, if motives are not under our pow-
ee or direction, which tis. confeſſedly the fact,
ve can, at bottom, have no liberty. We are
19 conſtituted, that we cannot exert a ſingle
action,
AND NECESSITY. 169
action, but with ſome view, aim or purpoſe:
At the fame time, when two oppoſite mo-
tives preſent themſelves, we have not the
power of an arbitrary choice. We are di-
krected, by a neceſſary determination of our
rr to prefer the ſtrongeſt motive.
© Ir is true, that, in diſputing upon this
ſubject of human liberty, a man may attempt
to ſhow, that motives have no neceſſary in-
fluence, by eating perhaps the worſt apple
that is before him, or, in ſome ſuch trifling
| inſtance, preferring an obviouſly lefſer good
| to a greater. But is it not plain, that the
humour of ſhowing that he can act againſt
motives, is, in this caſe, the very motive of |
the whimſical ee ?
bY COMPARISON inſtituted betwixt mo-
ral and phyſical neceſlity may poſſibly throw
additional light upon this ſubject. Where
the motives to any action are perfectly full,
cogent and clear, the feeling of liberty, as
we ſhowed before, entirely vaniſhes. In
. 3 other
io - LIBERTY
other caſes, where the field of choice is
wider, and where oppoſite. motives counter-
balance and work againſt each other, the
mind fluctuates for a while, and feels itſelf
more looſe: but, in the end, muſt as neceſ-
farily be determined to the ſide of the moſt
powerful motive, as the balance, after ſeve-
ral vibrations; mnſt incline to the fide of the
Preponderating weight. The laws of mind,
and the laws of matter, are in this reſpect per-
feRtly ſimilar; tho', in making the compariſon, -
we are apt to deceive ourſelves. In form-
ing a notion of phyſical neceſſity, we ſeldom
think of any force, but what has viſibly a
full effect. A man in priſon, or tied to a
poſt, muſt. remain there. If he is dragged
along, he cannot reſiſt. Whereas motives,
which, from the higheſt to the loweſt, are
very different; do not always produce fen-
{ible effects. Vet, when the comparifon- is
accurately inſtituted, , the very ſame thing
holds in the actions of matter. A weak mo-
tive makes ſome impreſſion: but, in oppoſi-
tion to one more powerful, it has no effect
to
3 * *
AN D. NECESSIT V. 17
to determine the mind. In the preciſe ſame
manner, a {mall force will not overcome a
great reſiſtance; nor the weight of an ounce
in one ſcale, counter-balance a pound in the
other. Comparing together the actions of
mind and matter, ſimilar cauſes will, in both
n produce ſimilar effects.
Bur admitting all ther has been contend-
ed for, of the neceſſary influence of mo-
tives, to bring on the choice or laſt judg-
ment of the underſtanding, it is urged by
Dr. Clark, that man is ſtill a free agent, be-
cauſe he has a power of acting, or beginning
motion according to his will. In this, he
places human liberty, that motives are not
phyſical efficient cauſes of motion . We
agree with the doctor, that the immediate
efficient cauſe of motion is not the motive,
but the will to act. No perſon ever held,
that the pleaſure ' of a ſummer-evening,
when a man goes abroad into the fields, is
© the
* Vid. Aae of the being and attributes, p. A
fol. edit, and his anſwer to Colin's paſim,
2 ' LIBERTY
the immediate cauſe of the motion of his
feet. But what does this obſervation avail,
when the prevailing motive, the will to act,
and the action itſelf, are three things inſepa-
rably linked together? The motive, accord-
ing to his own conceſſion, neceſſarily deter ·
mines the will; and the will neceſſarily pro-
duces the action, unleſs it be obſtructed by
ſome foreign force. Is not the action, by
conſequence, as neceſſary, as the will to act;
tho the motive be the immediate cauſe of
the will only, and not of the action or be-
ginning of motion? What does this author
gain, by ſhowing, that we have a power of
beginning motion, if that power never is,
never can be, exerted, unleſs in conſequence
of ſome volition or choice, which is neceſſa-
rily cauſed? But, ſays he, it is only a moral
neceſſity which is produced by motives; and
a moral neceſſity, he adds, is no neceſſity at
all, but is conſiſtent with the higheſt liberty.
If theſe words have any meaning, the diſpute
is. at an end. For moral neceſſity, being
that fort of neceſſity which affects the mind,
and
AND NECESSITY. ry
and. phyſical neceſſity that which affects
matter, it is plain, that, in all reaſonings
concerning human liberty, moral neceſſity,
and no other, is meant to be eſtabliſhed. -
The laws of action, we ſay, which reſpe&
the human mind, are as fixcd as thoſe which
reſpe& matter. The different nature of theſe
laws, occaſions the fixed conſequences of the
one to be called moral, and of the other
to be called phyſical neceſſity. But the idea of
neceſſary, certain, unavoidable, equally.agrees
to both. And to ſay that moral neceſſity
is no neceſſity at all, becauſe it is not phyſi-
cal neceſſity, which is all that the doRor's
argument amounts to, is no better, than to
argue, that phyſical neceſſity is no neceflity
at all, becauſe it is not moral neceſſity, -
Ont great ſource of confuſion, in reflect-
ing upon this ſubject, ſeems to be, our not
diſtinguiſning betwixt neceſſity and con-
ſtraint. In eommon language, theſe are uſed
as equivalent terms; but they ought to be
diſtinguiſhed when we treat of this ſubject.
A perſon, having a ſtrong deſire to eſcape,
remains
ar
remains in priſon, becauſe the doors are
guarded. Finding his keepers gone, he
makes his eſcape. His eſcape now is as ne-
ceſſary, i. e. as certain and infallible a con-
ſequence of the circumſtances he ſinds him-
ſel in, as his confinement was before; tho,
in the one caſe there is conſtraint, in the
other none. In this lyes the liberty of our
actions, in being free from conſtraint, and
in acting according to our inclination and
choice. But as this inclination and choice
is unavoidably cauſed or occaſioned by the
prevailing motive; in this lyes the neceſli-
w of our actions, that, in ſuch circumſtances,
it was impoſſible we could act otherways.
In chis ſenſe al our ations are bequally: ne-
ceſſary.
Tux preceeding reaſonings may perhaps
wake a ſtronger impreſſion, by being reduc-
ed into a ſhort argument, after this manner.
No man can be conceived to act without
ſome principle leading him to action. All
our principles of action reſolve into defires
and averfions; ; for nothing can prompt us to
move
AND NEC ESSIT V. 175
move or exert ourſelves in any ſhape, but
what preſents ſome object to be either pur-
ſued or avoided. A motive is an object ſo
operating upon the mind, as to produce ei-
ther deſire or averſion, Now, liberty as op+
poſed to moral neceſlity, muſt ſignify a pow+
er in the mind, of acting without or againſt
motives ; that is to ſay, a power of acting
without any view, purpoſe or deſign, and
even of acting in contradiction to our own
defires and averſions, or to all our principles
of action; which power, beſides that no man
was ever conſcious of it, ſeems to be an ab-
ſurdity altogether inconſiſtent with A rati-
onal nature.
W. TH IE to things ſuppoſed fo equal
as to found no preference of one to another,
it is not neceſſary to enter into any intricate
inquiry, how the mind in ſuch cafes is di-
rected. Tho' it ſhould be admitted, that
where there is no ſort of motive to influ-
.cnce the mind, it may exert a power of act-
ing e this would not affect the pre-
ceeding
|
[
|
1
|
|
1 LIBERTY
ceeding reaſonings,in which, the exiſtence of
a motive being once ſuppoſed, we have ſhown
the mind to be neceſſarily determined. Ob-
jects, ſo balanced one againſt another with
perfect equality, if ſuch inſtances are to be
found, muſt be ſo few, and in matters ſo
trivial (as in the common inſtance of eggs)
that they can have very inconſiderable influ-
ence upon human life. It may well admit of
à doubt, whether the mind be, in any caſe, left
altogether deſtitute of a motive to determine
its choice betwixt two objects. For, tho
the objects ſhould be themſelves perfectly e-
qual, yet various circumſtances ariſing from
minute unobſerved ſpecialities, of fancy, cuſ-
tom, Proximity of place, &c. may turn the
ſcale in favours of one of the objects, to
make it the motive of election. The un-
eaſineſs one is conſcious of, when in this
ſtate of ſuſpenſe, betwixt two things equally
balanced, ſearching and caſting about for
fome ground of choice; this uneaſineſs, I
lay, ſufficiently ſhows, that to act altogether.
ar-
AND NEQESSITY. 177
arbitrary i is unnatural, and that our conſti-
tution fits us to ve determined by motives,
* E
947) - ##{#3- &
| . now à thought comes acroſs the
nd, which demands attention. How hard
= be lot of the human ſpecies, to be thus
tied down and fixed to motives; poſed by
2 neceſſary law to the choice of evil, if e
happen to be the prevailing motive, or if k
miſlead us under the form of our greateſt in in-
tereſt or good! How happy to have had a
free independent power of acting contrary
to ' motlves, when th prevailing motive has
a bad cendency ! By this power, we might
have puſhed our way to virtue and happi-
neſs, whatever motives 'were fo ggeſted by
vice and folly to draw us back; or we might,
by arbitrary will, have refrained from a&-
ing the'bad parr, tho! all the powet of mo-
"tives concutred to urge us on. So far well;
but let us ſee whither this will carry us.
II his arbitrary power being once ſuppoſed,
may it not be exerted "againſt good motives
as 155 as bad ones? If it does us good by |
2 AC-
178 LILBERTY
1 in reſtraining us from vice, may
it not do us ill by accident, in reſtraining us
from virtue? and ſo ſhall we not be thrown
looſe altogether? Ar this rate, no man could
be depended upon. Promiſes, oaths, yows,
would be in vain; for nothing can ever bind
or fix. a man who is influenced by no mo-
tive. The diſtinction of characters would be
at an end; for a perſon cannot have a cha-
racter, who has no fixed or uniform prinei-
ples of action. Nay, moral virtue itſelf, and
all the foree of law, rule and obligation,
would, upon this hypotheſis, be nothing.
For no creature can be the ſubject of ra-
tional or moral government, whoſe actions,
by the conſtitution of its nature, are inde-
pendent of motives ; and whoſe will is ca-
pricious and arbitrary. To exhort, to in-
ſtruct, to promiſe, or to threaten, would be
.to no purpoſe, In ſhort, ſuch a creature,
if ſuch could exiſt, would be a moſt bi-
zarre and. unaccountable being: a mere
abſurdity i in nature, whoſe exiſtence could
ſerve no end, Were we fo; conſtituted, as
always
AND'NECESSITY. 179
always to be determined: by the moral ſenſe,
even againſt the ſtrongeſt counter-motives,
this would be conſi ſtent with human nature,
becauſe it would preſerve entire the con-
nection, that, by an unalterable law, is eſta-
bliſhed betwixt the will and the prevailing
motive. But, to break this connection alto-
gether, to introduce an unbounded arbitrary
liberty,” in oppoſition to which, motives
ſhould not have influence, would be, inſtead
of amending, to deform and unhinge the
whole human conſtitution. No reaſon have
ve therefore to regret, that we find the wilt
neceſſarily ſubjected to motives. The truth
of this general pofition muſt coincide with
our wiſh, unleſs we would rather have mart
to be, a whimſical and ridiculous, than 4
rational bigs moral —_ woes | de
Tabs far Wan we 8 9 in our
argument, that all human actions proceed
in a fixed and neceſſary train. Man being
what he is, a creature endowed with a cer-
tain Wr of underſtanding, certain paſſi-
| ons
19% LIBERTY
J GY wn |
ons and principles, and plaged in certain
Aenne it ee dae will
544141
San: His mind is paſſive in receiving im-
preſſons of things as good or ill: accord-
ing to to, theſe impreſſions, the laſt, judgment
of the underſtanding i is neceſſarily formed; ;
=
om. the laſt jndgment of the underſtand:
ing, nece flarily . as is fully ſhown;
ed with the will, ae ol er.
dae e. n weren On
1 16 9d ] 2. id vin 1
I che ours of n have
qblirated from all controverſies, about Di-
vine Preſcience and Decree. Tho' in fact,
from what has been proved, it appears, that
the Divine Being decrees all future events.
For he he gave ſuch x nature to his crea-
tures, and placed them in ſuch cireumſtan-
ces, that 4 certain train of actions behov-
y ed neceſſarily to follow; he, I ſay, who did
ee muſt have foreſeen the conſe-
Jo's | quences,
AN D NECESSITY. 191
quences, did certainly reſolve or decree that
events ſhould. fall out, and men ſhould act
as they do. Preſcience indeed is not, pro-
perly ſpeaking, any cauſe of events, For
events do not happen, becauſe they are fore-
| keen; but becauſe they are certainly, to hap-
pen, therefore they are capable of being fore-
ſeen». Tho preſcience does not cauſe, yet
it undoubtedly ſuppoſes, the certain futuriti+ |
on (as ſchoolmen ſpeak) of events, And,
were there not cauſes which render the ex-
iſtence of future events certain, it would i in-
yolve, a contradiQion to maintain, that fu-
ture events could be certainly foreſeen. But
I avoid carrying the reader any further in-
to ſuch aer dipures. |
| Ta — of what we have FEET
N contingency in events, and Hber-
ty in actions is this. Comparing together
the moral and the natural world, every thing
is as much the reſult of eſtabliſhed laws in
the one as in the other. There is nothing
in the whole univerſe that can properly be
| called
— — 1 7
182 LIBERTY
called contingent, that may be, or may not
be; nothing looſe and fluctuating in any
part of nature; but every motion in the na-
tural, and every determination and action in
the moral world, are directed by immutable
laws: ſo that, whilſt theſe laws remain in
their force, not the ſmalleſt link of the uni-
verſal chain of cauſes and effects can be
broken, nor wy one is be wn
Ams eg
$295 903 101 Heile 0 . el. Au
| » As, to : an in besten of making God the anidor of ſin,
which may ſeem to ariſe from bur ſyſtem, it is rather popu-
Jar than, philoſophical.” Sin, or moral turpitude, lyes in the
evil intention of him who commits it: it conſiſts in ſome
wrong or depraved affection ſuppoſed to be in the linner.
Now the intention of the Deity is unerringly good,” The
end propoſed by him is order and general happineſs: and
there is the greateſt reaſon to believe, that all events are ſo
directed by him, as to werk towards this end. In the pre-
Jent ſyſtem of things, ſome moral diſorders are indeed in-
cluded. No daubt, it is a conſiderable difficulty, how evil
comes to be in the world, if God is perfectly good. But
this difficulty ĩs not peculiar to our doctrine ; but recurs up-
on ys at laſt with equal force, whatever hypotheſis we em-
brace. For moral evil cannot exiſt, without being, at leaſt,
permitted by the Deity, And, whir regard) to a firſt cauſe,
. PERM3TTIXG is the ſame thing with Cauzin ; ſince, a-
alt bis will _ can poſſibly happen. All the ſchemes
that
AND NECESSITY. 183
- ' Tn x doctrine of univerſal neceſſity being
thus laid fairly open, and. proved to be the
true ſyſtem of the univerſe; we return to
take a more deliberate view of the feelings |
of contingency and liberty, than was neceſ-
ſary in broaching the ſubject. And, as we
muſt now admit, perhaps reluctantly, that
theſe feelings are in reality of the deluſive
kind, our next and only remaining theme
will be to unravel, if poſſible, this curious
myſtery, by trying to reach the purpoſe
of endawing man with feelings, ſo contra-
dictory to the truth of things. |
AND to begin with à review of the feel
ing of contingency. It is certain, that, in our
ordinary train of thinking, things never oc-
cur to us in the light above ſet forth. A
multitude of events appear to us as depend-
ing upon ourſelves to cauſe or to prevent: and
we readily make a diſtinction betwixt events,
which are neceſſary, i. e. which mult be, and
eyents which are contingent, i. e. which may
2 | 42710, Ne
chat have been contrived for anſwering this objeQion, ate
- buz the tortoiſe introduced to ſupport the elephant. They
; Þut the difficulty a ſtep further off, but never cemove it,
184 LIBERTY
be, or ay not be. This diſtinction is with-
out foundation in truth: for all things that
fall out, either in the natural or moral orld,
are, as we have ſeen, alike neceſſary, and a-
like the reſilt'of fixed laws.” Yet, how much
ſoever 4 philoſopher may be convinced of
this, the diſtinction betwixr things neceſſary,
and things e contingent, remains as much
with lum, in the common train” of his
thoughts, as with any other man. We act
univerfally upon this ſuppoſed diſtinction.
Nay; itis in truth the foundation of all the
labour, care and induſtry of mankind. To
Hluſtrate this by an example; conſtant expe-
rience has taught us, that death is a neceſſa-
ry event. The human frame is not made
to laſt, as it is, for ever; and therefore np
man thinks of acquiring a natural immorta-
lity. But the particular time of our death
appears a contingent event. However cer-
tain it be, that the preciſe time and man-
ner of each man's death, is determined by a
train of preceeding cauſes, not leſs neceſla-
iy a hour of the ſun baer lern
5 4
AND NECESSITY. 18;
to-morrow, yet no perſon is in the leaſt af-
feed by this doctrine. In the care of pro-
longing life, every man is conducted by the
feeling he has, of the contingeney of the
time of his death; which, to à certain term
of yeats, he conſiders as depending in a great
meaſure upon himſelf, by caution againſt ac-
cidents, due uſe of exerciſe, medicine, &f.
To theſe means, he applies himſelf with the
fame. diligence, as if there was, in fact, no
neceſſa ry train of cauſes, to ſix the period of
his life. In ſhort, whoever attends to his
own practical ideas; whoever reflects upon
the meaning of theſe words, which occur in
all languages, of things poſſible, contingent,
that. are in our power to cauſe or prevent;
whoever, I ſay, reflects upon ſuch words,
will clearly ſee, that they ſuggeſt certain
feelings, or natural notions, repugnant to the
doctrine above eſtabliſhed, « univerſal ne-
„ 5
; A2 ©. Waar
This repugnaney of feeling to truth, gave riſe to the
famous diſpute concerning things poſſible, among the antient
Etoicks, who held this doctrine of univerſal neceſſity. Dio-
| * gorus
3 :
# —ũ—ä ———— — EEE IR SEAArr r ²˙—ß» —el̃ . — ———————————
— ——— — c ˙-‚ —— DD — — GD — ——
| | | : —
* ; |
* 7
= *
.
*
.
186 LIBERTY:
a then ſhall be done i in this caſe,
whats truth contradicts the common feel-
ings and natural notions of mankind ; where
it preſents to us, with irreſiſtible evidence, a
ſyſtem of univerſal neceſſity upon which we
never act; but are ſo formed, as to condu&
=
, * * of . . p .
» ' 96 ö |
Ss 1 , « 1 , Our-
Vn as 952 1 us in bie book de YE, cap. vii,
held this opinion, „Id ſolum fieri poſſe, quod aut verum
« fit, aut futurum fit verum; at quicquid futurum fit, id di-
« cit hieri neceſſe eſſe, et quiequid non fit futurum, id ne-
« gat fieri poſſe.” That 5 is, he maintained, there is no-
thing contingent in future events, nothing poſſible to hap-
Pen, but that preciſe event which will happen. This no
doubt was carrying their ſyſtem its due length; tho?, in this
| Say or peeling, there is ſmetbüng that manifeſtly ſhocks
the natural feelings of mankind. | Chryſippus, on the other
hand, ſenſible of the harſhneſs of the above conſequence,
maintained, that it is poſſible for future events to happen o-
therways than in fact they happen. In this, he was cer-
tuinly inconſiſtent with his genetal ſyſtem of neceſſity ; and
therefore, as Cicero gives us to underſtand, was often emba-
raſſed in the diſpute with Diodorus : and Plutarch, in his book,
de repugnantiis Stoicorum, expoſes him for this inconſiſten-
cy. But Chryſippus choſe to follow his natural feelings, in op-
poſition to philoſophy ; holding by this, that Diodorus's |
doctrine of nothing being poſſible but what happens, was
ignavs ratio, tending to abſolute inaction; cui ſi pareamus,
as Cicero expreſſes it, nibil omnino agamus in vita. So ear-
ly were philoſophers ſenſible of the difficulty of reconciling
ſpeculation with feeling, as ta this doctrine of fate.
AND NECESSITY. 187
ourſelves by a ſyſtem of notions quite oppo-
ſite? Shall we ſacrifice abſtract truth to feel-
ing? or ſhall we ſtand by truth, and force
our feelings into compliance? Neither of
theſe will do. Truth is too rigid to bend
to mere feeling; and our feelings are inca-
pable of being forced by ſpeculation. The
attempt is vain, pugnantia ſecum, frontibus
adverfis, componere. Let us be honeſt then.
Let us fairly own, that the truth of things
is on the ſide of neceſſity ; but that it was
neceſſary for man to be formed, with ſuch
feelings and notions of contingency, as would
fit him for the part he has to act. This
thought we Muſragon.
* Deity is the firſt cauſe of all | things
He formed, in. his infinite mind, the great
plan or ſcheme, upon which all things were
to be governed ; and put it in execution, by
eſtabliſhing certain-laws, both in the natural
and moral world, which are fixed and im-
mutable. By virtue of theſe laws, all things
proceed | in a regular train of cauſes and ef-
fects,
3 LIBERTY
Fes; bringing about thoſe events which are
eorprehetided in the original plan, and ad-
imitting the poſſibility of none other. This
univerſe is a vaſt machine, winded up and
ft a going. The ſeveral ſprings and wheels
act unerringly one upon another. The
| band advatices, and the clock ſtrikes, pre-
eiſely as the artiſt has determined. Whoe-
ver has juſt ideas, and a true taſte of philo-
fophy, will ſee this to be the real theory, of
the uhiverle; arid that, upon any other the-
dty, chere cat be no general order, no
whole, no plan, no means nor end in its
| adminiſtration. In this pla, man, à ratio-
nal creature, was to bear his part, and to ful-
fill certain ends, for which he was deſigned.
He was to appear as an actor, and to act with
chnſcidtifneſs and ſpontaneity. He was to
Exerciſe thought and feaſon, and to receive
the imptovements of bis nature, by the due
uſe of theſe rational powers. Conſequently
it was neceſſary, that he ſhould have ſome
idea of liberty; ſome feeling of things poſ-
ſible and contingent, things depending upon
AND NECESSITY. 265
himſelf to cauſe, that he might be led to 4
proper exerciſe of that activity, for which he
was deſigned: To have had his inſtinctivs
feelings, his practical ideas, formed upon the
ſcheme of univerſal neceſſity; to have ſeen
himſelf a part of that great machine, wind-
ed up, and ſet a going, by the author of his
nature, would have been altogether incon-
gruous to the ends he was to fulfill. Then,
indeed, the 7gnava ratio, the inactive doc-
trine of the Stoicks, would have followed.
Conceiving nothing to be contingent, or de-
pending upon himſelf to cauſe, there would
have been no room for fote- thought about
futurity, nor for any ſort of induſtry and
care: he would have had no motives to ac-
tion, but immediate ſenfations of pleaſure
and pain. He muſt have been formed like
the brutes, who have no other principle of
action, but mere inſtinct. The few inſtincts
he is at preſent endowed with, would have
been altogether inſufficiettt. He muſt have
had an inſtin& to ſow, another to reap. He
Muſt have had inftin&s to purſue every con-
ve-
emen re
veniency, and perform every office of life;
In ſhort, reaſon and thought could not have
been ezerciſed in the way they are, that is,
man could not have been man, had he not
been furniſhed with a feeling of contingen-
cy. In this, as in all things elſe, the Di-
vine Wiſdom and Goodneſs are moſt admi-,
rable. As, in the natural world, the Al-
mighty has adapted our ſenſes, not to the
diſcovery of the intimate nature and eſſen-
ces of things, but to the uſes and conveni-
encies of life; as he has, in feveral inſtan-
ces, \ Exhibited natural objects to us, not in
their feal, but in a ſort of artificial view,
clothed with ſuch diſtinctions, and produc-
ing ſuch ſenſations as are for the benefit of
man: ſo he has exhibited the intellectual
world to us, in a like artificial view, clothed
with certain colours and diſtinctions, ima-
ginary, but uſeful. Life is conducted ac-
cording to this artificial view of things, and,
by out ſpeculations, is not in the leaſt affect-
ed! Eet the philoſopher meditate in his
cloſet upon abſtract truth; let lim be ever
2 8 ſo
AND NECESSITY. 192
ſo much convinced of the ſertled; neceflary, -
train of cauſes and effects, which leaves n-
thing, properly ſpeaking, in his power; yet,
the moment he comes forth into the world,
he acts as a free agent. And, what is won-
der ful, tho' in this he acts upon a falſe. ſup-
poſition, yet he is not thereby miſled from
the ends of action, but, on the contrary, ful-
fills them, to the beſt advantage. Long ex-
perience has made him ſenſible, that ſome
things, ſuch as the ſun's riſing and ſetting,
depend upon immutable laws. This is
contradicted by no feeling, as it is no way
for his benefit; that he ſhould act upon a.
ny other ſuppoſition, Such things he rec-
kons upon as neceſſary. But there are other
things, which depend upon the ſpontaneous
choices of men, or upon a concurrence of
natural and moral cauſes, + As to theſe, he
has not knowledge enough, to foreſee and
determine. by what law they will happen:
and his ignorancc of the event, is made to
have the ſame eſſect upon his mind, as if the
event were what we ralgar] y call contin-
| gent.
_ LIBERTY.
gent. Its uncertainty as to him produces the
ame feeling, and ſtirs him up to the fame
activity, as if it were uncertain in itſelf, and
had no determined cauſe of i its futurition.
This feeling then of contingency, and all
the ideas connected with it, may be treated
as ſecondary, qualities, which have no rea}
exiſtence in things; but, like other ſeconda-
ry qualities, are made to appear as exiſting in
events, or belonging to them, in order to
fea: the d bat ig human life.
| : Same objeRions ſhall be e, after
Alceuſſng the other branch af the diſquiſi-
ion concerning liberty of action. Theſe
- ſubjetts are ſo. cloſely connected, that they
Cannot fail to throw light upon each other.
— Contingency i in events is analogous to liber- |
ee Eee
| The extent of 1 hes is ax aſ-
certained,. It conſiſts in ſpontaneity, or act-
ws according to our inclination and choice.
It
AND NECESSITY. 193
Te may be therefore diſtinguiſhed from con-
ruin, but muſt not be oppoſed to neceſſi.
ty; For, as has been fully ſhown, the mind,
in the moſt calm choice, the moſt deliberate
action; it neceſſarily, i. e. unavoidably and
certainly, determined by the prepollent mo-
ive. When we examine accurately, how
far our feelings correſpond to this ſyſtem;
we. ſind; as was hinted before, firſt, that, an-
tecedent to any. particular action, we gene-
rally think and reaſon upon the ſcheme of
neteſſity. In conſidering or gueſſing at fu-
ture events, we always conclude, that a man
will act conſiſtently With his chatacter; we
infer what his actions will be, from the
knowledge we have of his:temper, and the
motives that are fitted to influence it; and
never dream of any man's having a power of
acting againſt motives. Here we have a ve-
ry weak freling, if any at all, of liberty, as
diſtinguiſhed from neceſſity: and wiſely ſo
ordered, that a clue, as it were, might be
afforded, to guide us in the labyrinth of fu-
ture actions, Which, were it not for the con-
(ad Bb nection
194 LIBERTY
nection betwixt an action and its motive,
would appear like a rope of ſand, looſe and
unconnected; and no means left af reaſon-
ing upon, or foreſeeing future actions. It
is to be obſeryed in the next place, that, dur ·
ing the action, the feeling begins to vaty;
and, unleſs. in cafes where the motive is ſo
ſtrong and overbearing, as to approach to
the nature of conſtraint; unleſs, in theſe, 2
man has a feeling of liberty, or of a power
of acting otherways than he is doing But,
in the third. place, itisprindpally in qeflect·
ing and paſſing judgment upon a paſt adion,
that the feeling of liberty is ſenſible and
ſtrong. Then it ĩs, that our actions are not
conſidered as proceeding· in a neceſſary una -
voidable train: but we accuſe and blame o-
thers, for not having acted the part they migbt
and ongbt to have acted, and condemn our-
ſelves, and feel remorſe, for having been guil-
ty of a vrong we - might bave refrained
from. The operations of moral conſcience
plainly proceed upon this ſuppoſition, that
there is ſuch a power in man of direQing
s & his
AND NECESSTTY. 195
his actions, as rendered it poſſible for the
perſon accuſed, to have acted a better part.
This affords an argument, which the advo-
cates for liberty have urged in its full force,
aguinſt the doRrirſe of neceſſity. They rea-
ſon thus: If actions be neceſſary, and not
in our o] power, and if we know it to be
fo, what ground can there be for reprehen-
ſion and blame, for ſelf-condemnation and
remorſe? If a clock had underſtanding to
be ſenſible of its own motions, knowing, at
the ſume time, that they proceed according
to neceſſary laws, could it find fault with
itſelf for ſttiking wrong? Would it not
blame the artiſt, who had ill adjuſted the
wheels on which its movements depended ?
So that, upon this ſcheme, ' ſay they, all the
moral conſtitution of our nature is over-
turned. There is an end to all the operati-
ons of conſcienco about right and wrong.
Man is no longer a moral agent, nor the ſubs -
* of Fey or blame for what he does. 14
ei
196 (LIBERTY 4
Tunis difficulty is great, and never hat
been ſurmounted by the; advodates for ne-
ceflity. - They endeavour to ſurmount it, by
reconciling feeling to philoſophic truth, in
the following manner. We are ſo conititut-
ed, they ſay, that certain affections, and the
actions which proceed from them, appear o-
dious and baſe; and others agreeable and
lovely; that, wherever they are beheld, ei-
ther in ourſelves or others, the moral ſenſe
neceſſarily approves of the one, and con-
demns the other; that this approbation is
immediate and inſtinctive, without any re-
flection on the liberty or-neceſſity-of adi.
ens; that, on the eontrary, the more any
perſon is under the power of his uffections
and paſſions; and; by oonſequence, the great ·
er neceſſity he is under, the more virtuous
or vicious he is eſteem ett
1064} this account 85 the matter is ls not 65
fager All that is ere 'faid, is in the
main e, but is nt the whole truth. 1
uppeal to any man who has been guilty of a
bat alen, which gives him uncaſinefs, whe-
ther
AND NECESSIT V. 1g
ther there iscnot ſome what mere in the
inward feeling than merely a diſlike or
of the affection, from which
his action procesded? whether the pat,
the cruciatus of remorſe, is not founded
on the notion of a; power he has over his
will and actions, that he- might have for-
born to do the ill thing? and whether
iis not upon this account, chat he is gal
ed within; angry at himſelf, and eonfeſſ-
es himſelf to be juſtly blameable? An unea-
ſineſs fomewhat-of the fame kind, is felt up-
on the reflection of any fooliſh orraſh aQi-
on, committed againſt the rules of wiſdom,
The ſting is indeed much ſharper; and for
very wile reaſons, when a man has treſpaſſi
ed againſt the rules of ſtrict morality. Butz
in both caſes, the uneaſineſs proceeds upon
the ſuppoſition, that he was free, and had ĩt in
his power to have acted a better part. This
indeed is true; ihat to be ſo entirely under
the power of any bid paſſion, (luſt, for ina
ſtance, or cruelty) as to be incapable of; ace
ing otherways than they direct, conlhtites
a ve-
398 I. I PR TY
Avery hateful character. Jadmit, that 4
tuck ill affectians are naturally, and in them
clxes iche objects of diſlike and hatred, where-
cher they are heheld. But. I inſiſt upon ig
that mere diſlike and hatred, are not the
whole, but only a part of thermoral feeling,
The perſon, thus: under the dominion of bad
paſſions, is accuſed. is condemned, ſingly up-
on this ground, that it was thro: bre.0wn fault
de became fo; ſuabjec̃t 1 them; in other
words, that it was in his power, to have
kept his mind free from the enſlaving influ-
ence of corrupt afſections. Were not this
the caſe, brute. animals might be the objects
of moral blame, as well as nian. Some
beaſts are reglepned ſavage and eruel, others
treacherous.and: falſe: we diſlike, we hate
orgatures ſo ill. conſtituted: but we do not
blame. der eqndemn them, as We do rational
AgEPrs 3, becauſe they are not ſuppoſed 10
have a ſenſe at right and wrong, nor free-
dam and power of directing their aftions 20.
cording,/to..that inward rule. We muſt
OW: admit, that the idea of lee.
AND NECESSTT v. 9h
of aipower of regulating our will and acti⸗
ons üccording to certain rules, is efferitiah
giverſal neceſſity, abſtracted from this feel-
ng. tho certain affections and actions might;
excite our approbation, arid others our dif-:
like; there could be no place for blame or
remorſe, All the ideas would entirely: v
niſh, which at preſent are ſuggeſted by the-
words ought and u, when applied ons-
eee Ot 0 6 Hoden
R T1631 215001 JU 4H4H! £16 leh
ennie is as WAG UE i
ral feeling, oppoſed to philoſopfric truth, 4
nalogous to what is before conſidered. Ic
is the more remarkable, that it has gicen
iſe ro thoſe diſputes about Hberty and nes!
ceſſity; which, have ſubſiſted thro” all ages in
the inquiring world; which; fince the cab
keſt accounts of philoſophy, have run thro”
alt different ſects of philofophers,” 'and have?
been ingraſted into moſt of the relig ious yk
tems. We are now able, If imagine, to give”
a * and ſatisfactory accoumt why the dif-
* ferent
to the moral feeling. On the ſyſtem of u-
4
mo IL. IBE RTT
ferent parũes / never could agres; becauſe, in
tirith, the feli of Hberty, which:we have,
does not dgtee WH the real fact. Thoſe
who wert boldleſt In their inquiries, | traced
cut ihe philofoþhicttruth:! they ſaw that all
tlñirgr preteddod im a necrſſary train of cau ·
ſeo and bffects, hic. renderd it impoſſible
for themjno h Der ways thin they did;
and to thlt ſyſtem they adhered; without
yielding” to mural feelings. Thoſe again,
who had not'courage to oppoſe the firſt and
moſt obvious feelings of their heart, ſtopped
ſhort; and 2dhefed to liberty. It is obſcry-
able that the fſide of liberty has always
bden the moſt popular, and: moſt generally
embiaced:t and, upon this ſyſtem; all popu-
_ lar-difeowſes/tind/exhbortatians muſt needs
proceed. Even thdfe perſons, whoſe: phi-
loſophital tenets are built upon che ſyſtem
6b neoeſſity, find themſelves obliged to de-
ſert that ſyſtem, in popular argument, and to
adopt the ſtile and language of thoſe; who
eſpduſe liberty. Among the antients, the
n of nos þ werethe Stoicks ;
a ſe-
AND:NECESSITY. 208
2 ſevere and rigid ſect, whoſe profeſſed doc-
trine it was, to ſubdue all our feelings to
philoſophy. The Platonics, Academics
and Epicureans, who embraced a ſofter
| ſcheme of philoſophy, and were more men
of the world than the Stoics, leaned to the
fide of liberty. Both parties have their own
advantages | in reaſoning ; ; and both, when
puſhed, run into difficulties, from which
they can never extricate themſelves. The
advocates for liberty talk with great ad-
vantage upon the moral powers of man,
and his character as an accountable being:
but are at a loſs, how to give any view of the
univerſe, as a regular pre· adjuſted plan; and
when urged with the connection betwixt
the motive and the action, and the neceſſa-
ry train of cauſes and effects, which reſults
from admitting it to be a fixed connection,
they find themſelves greatly embarraſſed.
Here the patrons of neceſſity triumph.
They have manifeſtly all the advantages of
ſpeculative ment; ; whilſt they fail in ac-
counting for man's moral powers, and ſtruggle
| | Cc ig
202 + iLIBERTY!
in vain to reconcike to their ſyſtem, the te{-
timony which conſcience _— gives to
freedom,
| 3 us has fairly eren.
ing both theſe claſſes of philoſophers, that
they were partly in the right, and partly in
the wrong. They divided, as it were, the
truth betwixt them. The one had abſtra&
reaſon on their fide: the other had natu-
ral feeling. In endeavouring to reconcile
theſe oppoſites, both parties failed ; and the
vain attempt has rendered the controverſy
difficult and perplexed. After having aſ-
; certained the foundation, upon which the
doctrine of neceſſity is built, and which
ſeems incapable of being ſhaken, let us fair-
ly and candidly take our nature as we find
it, which will lead us to this concluſion, that
tho man, in truth, is a neceſſary agent, having
all his actions determined by fixed and im-
mutable laws; yet that, this being concealed
from him, he acts with the conviction of be-
log a. . It is concealed from him,
J ſay,
AND NECESSTT V. 203
I fay, as to the purpoſes of action: for
whatever diſcoveries he makes as a philoſo-
pher, theſe affect not his conduct as a man.
In principle and ſpeculation, let him be a
moſt rigid fataliſt; he has nevertheleſs all the
feelings which would ariſe from power over
his own actions. He is angry at himſelf
when he has done wrong. He praiſes and.
blames juſt like other men: nor can all his
principles ſet him above the reach of ſelf-
condemnation and remorſe, when conſci-
ence at any time {mites him. It is true, that
a man of this belief, when he is ſeeking to
makehismind eaſy,after ſome bad action, may
reaſon upon the principles of neceſſity, that,
according to the conſtitution of his nature,
it was impoſſible for him to have acted any
other part. But this will give him little re-
lief. In ſpite of all reaſonings, his remorſe
will ſubſiſt. Nature never intended us to
act upon this plan; and our natural princi-
ples are too deeply rooted, to give way to phi-
loſophy. This caſe is preciſely ſimilar to
that of contingency. A feeling of liberty,
; . which
204 LIBERT T
which Ino ſcruple not to call deceitful, is
ſo intetwoven with our nature, that it has
an equal effect in action, as if we were real.
| re en — 1
. ay TD
NG edits, 40 ful 5 ie
markable feeling of liberty, and examined,
aa we went along, ſome arguments againſt
necoſſity that are founded upon it; we now
proceed to handle this feeling, as we have
done that of eontingency, with regard to its
final cauſe. And in this branch of our na-
ture are diſplayed the greateſt wiſdom, and
the greateſt goodneſs: Man muſt be ſo con-
ſtituted, in order to attain the proper im-
provement of his nature, in virtue and hap-
pineſs. Put the caſe, he were entirely di-
veſted of his preſent ideas of liberty: ſup-
poſe him to ſee and conceive his own nature,
ati&the- eonſtitution of things, in the light
of fri: philoſophic truth; in the fame liglit
they are beheld by the deity: to conceive him:
felf, and all his actions, neceſſarily linked into
the e cauſes und effects, 2
a ; | Ten-
AND NECESSITY. 205
renders the whole order both of the natural
and moral world unalterably determined in
every article: ſuppoſe, I ſay, our natural
feelings, our ptactical ideas to ſuit and tally
with this, which is the real plan; and what
would follow? Why, an entire derangement
of our preſent ſyſtem of action, eſpecially
with regard to the motives which now lead
us to virtue. There would ſtill indeed be
ground for the love of virtue, as the beſt
conſtitution of nature, and the only ſure
foundation of happineſs; and, in this view,
we might be grieved When we found our-
ſelves deficient in good principles. But this
would be all. We could feel no in ward
ſelf. app robation on doing well, no remorſe
on doing ill; becauſe both the good and the
ill were neoeſſary and tinavoidable. - There
would be no more place for applauſe or
blame among mankind: none of that gene-
rous indignation we now feel at the bad, as
perſons who have abuſed and perverted their
rational powers: no more; notion of ac-
AGING for the uſe of thoſe powers: no
ſcnſe
All theſe ideas, an
25 EIBE RT 1
ſeaſe of il deſert, n
ed to crĩmes as their due; nor of any reward
metited by worthy and . generous actions.
d feelings, ſo uſeful to men
in their moral c vaniſh at once with
the feeling of liberty: There would be field
ſor no other paſſions but love and hatred,
forrow: and pity: and the ſenſe of duty, of
being obige to certain things which we
ought. ro perform, muſt be quite extinguiſh-
ed; for we can have no conception of mo-
ral -ob/;gation, without ſuppoſing a power in
eee actions.
. . moſt fit 8
ſhould, be endued with a ſenſe of liberty;
without which, man muſt have been ill qua-
lied for acting his preſent part. That ar-
tificial light, in which the feeling of liberty
preſents the moral world to our view, an-
ſwets all the good purpoſes of making the
actions of man entirely dependent upon him-
ſelf. His happineſs and miſery appear to
be in his on power. He appears praiſe»
nene worthy
AND NECESSITY. 20
.worthy or culpable, according as he im :
proves or neglects his rational faculties.
The idea of his being an accountable crea»
rure ariſes. Reward ſeems due to merit;
puniſhment to crimes. | He feels the force
of moral obligation. In ſhort, new paſſions
arife, and a variety of new ſprings are ſet in
motlon, to make way for new exertions of
reaſon and activity. In all which, tho man
is really actuated by laws of neceſſary influ -
ence, yet he ſeems to move. himſelf: and
whilſt the univerſal ſyſtem is gradually carti-
ed on to perfection by the firſt mover; that
powerful hand, which winds up and directs
the great machine, is never brought into
ſight. - TEST 1 bird
Jen.
Ir will now be proper to anſwer ſome ob-
jections, which may be urged againſt the
doctrine we have advanced. One, which at
firſt, may ſeem of conſiderable weight, is, that
we found virtue altogether upon a deceitful
feeling of liberty, which, it may be alledged,
is neither a ſecure nor an honourable foun-
dation.
268 T LIBERTY
dailon ! But, in. the ſirſt place, I deny that we
bad founded it altogether upon a deeeitful
feeling. For, independent of the deceitful
feeling of liberty, thete is in the nature of
man a firm foundation for virtue. He muſt
be ſenſible that virtue is eſſentially prefer-
able to vice; that it is the juſt order, the
perfection and happineſs of his nature. For,
ſuppoſing him only endued with the prin-
ciple of ſelſ- love; this principle will lead
bim 10 diſtinguiſh moral good from evit;>ſo
far as to give ground for loving the one,
and; hating the other: as he muſt! needs
ſee that benevolence, juſtice, temperance;
and the other virtues, are the neceſſary means
of his happineſs, and that all vice and wic-
kedneſs introduce diſorder and miſery. But
man is endued with a ſocial as well as a ſelf-
ih principle, and has an immediate ſatisfac-
tion and pleafyre in the happineſs of others,
which is a further ground for diſtinguiſhing
and loving virtue. All this, I ſay, takes-
place, laying aſide the deceitful feeling of
ST AA lar all our notions to be
Tate ad-
AND NECESSITY. 209
adjuſted. to the ſyſtem of neceſſity. I add,
that there is nothing in the above doctrine,
to exclude the perception, of a certain beauty
and excellency in virtue, according to lord
Shafteshury and the antient Philoſophers ;
which may, for ought we know, render it
lovely and admirable to all rational beings.
It appears to us, unqueſtionably, under the
form of intrinſick excellency, even when
we think not of its tendency to,our happi-
neſs. Ideas of moral obligation, of remorſe,
of merit, and all that is connected with this
way, of thinking, ariſe from, what may be
called, a wiſe deluſion in our nature concern-
ing liberty: but, as this affe s only a certain
modification of our ideas of virtue and vice,
there is nothing in it, to render the foundati-
on of virtue, either unſecure or diſhonourable.
Unſecure it does not render it, becauſe, as
now obſerved, virtue partly ſtands firm up-
ona ſeparate foundation, independent of
| theſe feelings; and, even where built upon
- theſe feelings, it is ſtill built upon human
nature. For though theſe feelings of li-
Dd. berty
21d IL I BERT
by u frem the truth of ane they
are, nevertheleſs, ” dlchtial to the nature
of man. We act upôn them, and cannot
a era. Add therefore, cho che dif-
tinction berwixt virtue ard vice, had rio vthet
foundation but thefe feelings, (which! is not
che cle) it Would ſtill have an immoveable
and ſecure foundation in human nature. As
for the ſuppoſed diſhonour done to virtue, by
reſting its authority, in any degree, on a de-
ceitful feeling, there is fo lktle ground for
this part of the objection, that, on the con-
trary, our doctrine moſt highly exalts vir-
tae.” Por the above deferibed artificial fenfe
of liberty, is wholly contrived to ſupport
virtue, and to give its dictates the force of 4
Rv. Hereby it is difcovered to be, in a fin-
gular manner, che care of the Deſty; and a
peculiar fort of glory is thrown around it.
The Author of nature, his not reſted it, up-
on tlie ordinary feelings and Principles of
human nature, as he has reſted our 6thet
affections and appetites, even theſe which
are moſt neòeſſary to our exiſtence, But a
ſort
ANPNECESSIT V. 271
ſart of extraordinary machinery is introduc-
ed for its ſake. Human nature is forced,
as it were: aut ol its courſe, and made to re-
geiye 2 nice and artificial ſet of feelings;
merely that conſcience may have a com-
manding power, and virtue be ſet as on a
throne, This could not otherways be
brought about, but by means of the deceit-
ful feeling of liberty, which therefore is 3
greater honour to virtue, a higher recom-
. mendation of it, than if our conceptions were,
in every particular, correſſ PORdERtYY the truth
of things, - |
A SECOND objeRign which may be urg
ed againſt our ſyſtem, is, that it ſcems to re-
preſent the Deity, as acting deceitfully by his
creatures. He has given them certain ideas
of contingency in events, and of liberty in
their own actions, by which he has, in 3
manner, forced them to act upon 2 falſe hy-
potheſis; as if he were unable, to carry on
the government of this world, did his crea-
tures conceiye things, according to the real
: truth,
212 — 4128 E RT Y
truth. 1 Ts objection is, in a great ER
obviated, by what we obſerved in the intro-
dudion to this eſſay, concerning our ſenſible
ideas, It is univerſally allowed by modern
Philoſophers, that the perceptions of our ex-
ternal ſenſes, are not always agreeable to
ſtrict truth, but fo contrived,” as rather to an-
ſwer the purpoſes of uſe. Now, if it be
called a deceit in our ſenſes, not to give us
juſt repreſentations of the material world, .
the Deity muſt be the author of this deceit,
as much as he is, of that which prevails i in
our moral ideas. But no juſt objection ean
ly againſt | the conduct of the Deity, in either,
caſe. Our ſenſes; both internal and exter-
nal, are given us for different ends and pur-
poſes; ; fome to diſcover truth, others to
make us happy and virtuous. The ſenſes
which are appropriated to the diſcovery of
truth, unerringly anſwer their end. So do
the ſenſes, which are appropriated to virtue
and happineſs. And, in this view, it is no ma-
terial objection, that the fame ſenſe does not
unfyer both ends, As to the other part of
the
218 8
AND NECESSTTY. 413
the objeclion, that it muſt imply imperfe&ti- |
on in the Deity, if he cannot eſtabliſh virtue
but upon a deluſive foundation; we may be
fatisfied how fallacious this reaſoning i is, by
reflecting upon the numberleſs appearances,
of moral evil and diſorder in this world;
From theſe appearances, much more ſtrong.
ly, were there any force in' this reaſoning,
might we infer imperfection in the Deity; |
ſeeing the ſtate of this world, in many par-
ticulars, does not anſwer the notions we are
apt to form, of ſupreme power conducted by
perfect wiſdom and goodneſs. But, in truth,
there is nothing in our doctrine, which can
juſtly argue imperfection in the Deity. For
it is abundantly plain, firſt, that it is a more
perfect ſtate of things, and more worthy of .
the Deity, to have all events going on with
ynbroken otder, i in a fixed train of cauſes and
elſcets; than to have every thing deſultory
"and contingent. And, if ſuch a being as
man, was to be placed in this world, to act
hls preſent part; it was neceſſary, that he
ſhould have a notion of contingency in e-
vents,
-—_
214 © LIBERTY.
vents, and of liberty in his own actions. The
ohjection therefore, on the whole, amoynts
to no more, than that the Deity cannot work
contradictions. For, if it was fit and wiſe,
that man ſhould think and act, as a free agent,
it was impoſſible this could be otherways
accompliſhed, than by endowing him with a
ſenſe of liberty: and if it was alſo fit and
wiſe, that yniyerſal neceſſity ſhould be the
real plan of the vniyerſe, this ſenſe of liber-
Y. could be no other chan a deceitful one.
A8 OTHER objedtion may perhaps be raif-
&d; againſt us in this form, If it was neceſſa-
ry: 22 man to be conſtituted, with ſuch an
artificial feeling, why was he endowed with
fo much knowledge, as to ynravel the myſ-
tery? What purpoſe does it ſerve, to lef in
| juſt { fo much light, as to diſcover the diguif-
ed appearance of the moral world, when it
was intended, that his conduct ſhould be ad-
juſtedd to this diſguiſed appearance? 'To this,
Tanſwer, firſt, that the diſcovery,when' wade, |
catinot poſſibly be ** any bad conſequence;
; and
AND NECESSITY. 275
arid next, that a. good conſequence, of
great importance, reſults from it. No bad
conſequence, I fay, enſues from the diſcove-
ty, that Hberty and contingency are deceit-
Ful feelings ; for the caſe is eonfeſſedly pa-
ralld in the natural world, where no harm
has enſued. Aſter we have diſcovered, by
phitoſophy, that ſeveral of the appearances of
wature; are only uſeful Muſidns, that ſeconda-
ry qualities exift not in matter, and tfiat our
fenrſible ideas, in various friſtandes, d6 not
correſpond to philofophic truth; after theſe
dfcoveries are thade, do they, in the leaſt,
affect eren the philoſopher himſelf in ordi-
nary action? Does not he, in common with
the reſt 'of mankind, proceed, as it is Bt
he fhould, upon the common ſyſtem of ap-
pearances and natural feeſings ?. As little, in
the preſent caſe, do our ſpeculations 2bout
liberty and neceſſity, countera@ the plan ef
nature. Upon the fyſtem of liberty we do,
and muſt act: and no diſcoveries, made con-
n the illuſive nature of that feeling, are
capable
3
216 LIBERTY
eber diſappointing, in any * the
: intention 97 ths . a a
* ſors this f is not al. Theſe Fiſcoverie
are alſo of excellent uſe, as they furniſh us
with one of the ſtrongeſt arguments, for the
_ exiſtence. of the Deity, and as they ſet the
wiſdom and goodneſs of his providence, in
the moſt ſtriking light. Nothing carries in
it more expreſs characters of deſign ; nothing
can. be conceived more oppoſite. to chance,
_ thawa plan ſo artfully contrived, for adjuſt-
ing our' impreſſions and feelings to the pur-
poſes of life. For here things are carried off,
as ĩt were, from the ſtraight line; taken out
of the courſe, in which they would of them- |
ſelves proceed ; and ſo moulded, as forcibly,
and againſt their nature, to be ſubſervient to
man. His mind does not receive the impreſ-
| fion of the moral world, in the ſame man-
ner, as wax receives the impreſſion of a ſeal.
It does not reflect the image of it, in the
ame manner, as a mirror reflects its images:
it has a peculiar caſt and turn given to its
AND NECESSITY. 27
conceptions, admirably ordered to exalt vir-
tue, to the higheſt pixch.” Theſe concepti-
ons are indeed illuſive, yet, which is wonder-
ful, it is by this very' circumſtance, that, in
man, too of the moſt oppoſite things in na-
ture, are happily reconciled, liberty and nece{-
ſity; having this illuſtrious effect, chat in
bim are actnmulated, all the prerogatives
both of a neceſſary and free agent. The
diſcovery of ſuch a marvelous adjuſtment;
which is more directly oppoſed to chance;
than any other thing -conceiveable, muſt
neceſſarlly give us the ſtrongeſt impreſſi-
on of a wiſe deſigning cauſe. And now -
a ſufficient reaſon appears, for ſuffering man
to make this ſurpriſing diſcovery. The Al-
mighty has let us ſo far into his councils, as
to afford the juſteſt foundation, for admiring
and adoring his wiſdom. It is a-remark wor-
thy to be made, that the capacities of man
ſeem, in general, to have a tendency beyond
the wants and occaſions of his preſent ſtate.
This has been often obſerved with reſpe&
to bis wiſhes and deſires. The fame holds
E e as
218 LIBERTY
-as to his intellectual faculties, which, fome-
times, as in the inſtance before us, run be-
Fond the limits of what is ſtrictly neceſſary
for him to know, in bis preſent circuraſtan-
Ces, and let in upon him ſome glimmerings
of higher and nobler diſcoveries; A veil is
throw over nature, where it is not uſeful
for him to behold it. And yet, ſometimes,
by turning aſide that, veil a very little, he is
admitted to a fuller view; that his admiration
of nature, and the God of nature, may be
increaſed; that his curioſity: and love of
truth may be fed; and, perhaps, that ſome
augurium; ſome intimation, may de given, of
his being deſigned for a future, more exalt-
eld period of being ; when attaining the full
maturity of his nature, he ſhall no longer
ſtand in need of artificial impreſſions,” but
ene
. n o mn p
+4 +* ** . 10 :
” 1 - *
- i | l *
- * a
Ay 4 . . 4 1 * .
— ; 417 TE ; 11 2
* " 5 s * x
1 5 * , *.
py PA mr. 4 | .
* i i : > * 4a « * 5 a P T £ 7 .
. 4 * 4
, * 8 _ * 8 * . -
4 .
*
E 8 S A YS
fd THE
PRINCIPLES of MokALrrr
A ND
NATURAL rue
PART II.
0 en © *
1 HM
> % zelt: :
E 8 8. A Y I. 5411 wech )
BEE.
YEL Er is a term ſo familiar, af to have
eſcaped the inquiry of all philoſophers;
except the author of the treatiſe of Buman
nature. And yet the ſubje&'is, by nio means,
ſs plain a as to admit of no "tubes nor' dtfieul-
ties. This aythor has made two proji6fitibns!
ſufficiently evident; firſt, that belief ix" not
any ſeparate action of perception of the mind,
but a modification of our perception, or 4
cettain manner of conceivirg propoſitions.
2d; That it does not accompany every
one of our perceptions.” A man, in ſome
circumſtances, ſees" objects double, but lie
ddes not believe them tò be dbuble. He can
form the idea of a golden mountain: he can
fbrtn the Idea of it, as of a 5 |
as exiſting in a certain place; but he d
dot believe it to be exiſting, l
2
Haviwo: proved thee belief is ri6t'a' ſes
paris perception, but only-a- modifications
af
—
of ſome perceptions, « our author goes on to
explain the nature of chis modification. And
his doctrine is, that belief making no altera-
tion upon the idea, as to its parts and compo-
ſition, muſt conſiſt in the lively manner of
conceiving the idea ; ; and that, in reality, a
Lively idea and belief are the ſame.. I have
2 high opinion of this author's acuteneſs and
penetration; but no authority can prevail
with me to embrace ſuch a doctrine. For, at
this rate, eredulity and a lively imagination
| would be always connected, which does not
hold in fact. Poetry and painting produce
hvely ideas, but they ſeldom produce belief.
For my part, I have no difficulty to form 28
lively a conception of Cefar's dying in his
bed, deſcanting upon the vanity of ambition,
or dictating rules af government to his ſuc- |
ceſlor, as of his being put to death in the
ſenate-houſe. Nothing is told with more
vivacity, than the death of Cyrus, in a pitch-
ed battle with the queen of the Scythians,
who dipped his head, as we are told, in a
veſſel full of blood, ſaying, * Satiate thyſelt
10 with
+7
OF BELIEF. 223
«: with blood, of which thou waſt ever thir-
| 40 ſty. 14 Let, upon comparing circumſtan-
ces and authors, the more + xiv opinion
is, that. been died in his bed. woot
I. may bs obſerved, at the FOR time, aur
| as concluſion is very lame, which this author
' draws from his premiſes. Belief makes no
alteration upon the idea, as to its parts and
compoſition. It can only therefore conſiſt
in a modification of the idea. But does it
follow, that it conſiſts in a lively concepti-
tion of the idea, which is but one of many
modifications ?. There is not here! the ſha-.
| 6 TILE f/f 0 4
{Quin a0 indeed urges, that true hiſto- /
ry takes faſt hold of the mind, and preſents
its objects in a more lively manner, than any
fabulous narration can do. Every man muſt
judge for himſelf: I cannot admit this to
be my caſe. Hiſtory, no doubt, takes faſt- '-
| er hold of the mind, than any fiction told
in ow plain hiſtorical ſtile. But can any
man
OF BELIE F.
man doubt, who has not an bypotheſis to de-
= feelings, attend the celebrated Garrick in che
character of Richard, or in that of king Le-
WM; bnd ae ir repre-
ons, Which kit fadom x comes Xp
Düne
DE nn is Po e
ene ü it dell be Coppola; that
hiſtory preſents its objects in a moro lively
manner, than can be done by dramatic or
5) it will not therefore follow,
that a livelꝝ idea is the ſame with belief! 1
read a paſſage in Virgil. Let it be the epiſode
of Niſus and Euryalus, I read a paſſage in Li-
Y, ei. the ſacking of Rome by the- Gauls.
IH IL have a more lively: idea of. the latter ſto-
cauſe of this effect. He ſurely will not af-
ham, that it. is: the force: of expreſſion, or
barmony. of. numbers: for, in theſe parti-
culars, the hiſtorian: cannot be compared ta
| VO” It is evident, that no:other ſatiſ⸗
8 factory
OF BELIEF. 225
factory account of the matter can be given,
but this, that Livy's ſuperior influence up-
on the imagination, is the effect of his being
conſidered, as a true hiſtorian; The moſt,
then, that our author can make of his obſer-
vation, ſuppoſing it to hold true in fact, is,
chat the authority of the hiſtorian produces
belief, and that belief produces a more live-
ly idea, than any fabulous narration can do.
The truth of the matter is, that belief and a
lively conception, are really two diſtin modi-
fications of the idea ; which, tho' often con-
Joined, are not only ſeparable in the imagie
nation, but in fact are often ſeparated,
Truth, indeed, beſtows a certain degree of
vivacity upon our ideas. At the ſame time,
J cannot admit, that hiſtory exceeds drama-
ũ c or epic poetry, in conveying a lively con-
ception of facts; becauſe it appears evident,
that, in works of imagination, the want of
truth, is more than ren by d
ment and language.
Ff SOME»
226 OP BE LIE F.
SoM TMB, indeed, belief is the reſult of
2 lively impreſſion. A dramatic repreſenta-
tion is one inſtance, when it affe&s us ſo
| — 446 to draw off the attention from eve-
ry other objeR; and even from ourſelves. In
this fituatiom we. dot conſider the actor,
but conceive him to be the very man whoſe
chatacter he aſſume We have that very
man befbre our eyes. We pereeive kim as
exiſting: and acting, and believe him to be
exiſting and acting. This belief, however,
is but momentary. Fr vaniſhes, ike a dream,
ſo ſ60n'2s ve are routed by any trivial Urs
cumſtance, to a conſciotiſnels of ourſthyes,
and of che place we are in.) Nor is the tive-
Iy impreſſion, even in this cafe, the cauſe of
belief, but only the occafion of it, by di-
verting the attention of the mind, from it-
felf and its ſituation. It is in ſome fach
manner, tliat the idea of a ſpectre in the
dark, whieh- Els the- mind, and diverts it
from itſelf, is, by the force of imagination,
| converted 3 into a reality. We think we fee
| and
OF BELIER, 227
and. hear it. We are convinced of it, and
believe the matter to be ſo. vaſes
"Ry JxcT1 NG chanefore this authar Gary
nion, the real truth appears to be this. There
is a certain peculiar manner of perceiving
objects, and conceiving propoſitions, which,
being a {ample feeling, cannot be deſcribed,
but is expreſſed by the word belief. The
cauſes of this modification, termed belief,
are. the authority of my own, ſenſes, and
the authority of others, who either relate
facts upon the authority of their ſenſes, or
what they have heard at ſecond or third
hand. So that belief, mediately or immedi-
atcly, is founded upon the authority of our
ſenſes. We are ſo conſtituted by. nature, as
to, put truſt in our ſenſes; Nor, in general,
is it in our power to disbelieve our ſenſes:
they have authority with us irreſiſtible.
There is but one exception that I can think
of. Finding, by. experience, that we have
been ſometimes led into an error, by truſt-
ing ſome particular perceptions, the remem-
| brance
3
|
|
|
|
228 OF BELIEF.
brence of theſe inſtances, counter- balances
the authority of our perception in the like
caſes, and either keeps the mind ſuſpended,
or, perhaps, makes it reſt in a convictlon, 11
* een 18 erroneous. 9 1 A
=
£5
"Wren ts to che evidence of my on
Cantos; tho' I cannot admit, that the eſſence
of belief conſiſts in the vivacity of the im-
preſſion, 1 f6 far agree with our author,
that vivaclity and belief, in this caſe, ate al-
ways conjoined, | A mountain I have once
| ſeen, 1 believe to be exiſting, tho I am a
thouſand miles from it ; and the image or
idea T have of that mountain, is more lively
and more diſtin&, than of any I can form
merely by the force of imagination. But
this is far from-being the cafe, as above ob-
ſerved, of ideas raiſed in 180 eu 15 the
forge of hnguagee, © /|
nen lh dom thi as do of o-·
dit, reſts upon a different foundation. Ve-
_ and a diſpoſitian to believe, are corre
6 ſpond·
OF 'B'iELIEF. 229
ſponding principles in the nature of man;
and, in the main; theſe principles are ſo adi
juſted, that men are not often deceived. The
diſpoſition we have to believe, is qualified
by the opinlon we have of the witneſs, and
the nature of the ſtory he relates. But, ſup-
poſing a coneurrence of all other cireum-
ſtances to prompt our belief, yet, if the ſpeak-
er pretends only to amuſe, without confining
himſelf to truth, his narration will not, in
the ſmalleſt degree, prompt our belief; let
him enliven it with the n 4 colours
r eh —_— _ TG Ii DIVES
int: F 9!
om "HAVE buy roads; that We on
Mie and the teſtimony of others, are the
proper cauſes of belief; yet that theſe cauſes
are more or leſs efficatious, according to the
temper of mind we are in at the time. Hope
and fear aro influenced by paſſion, ſo is belief.
Hope and fear are modifications of our con-
ception of future events. If the eventbe agree-
able, and the probability of its exiſtence, be
great, our conception af its exiftence takes
| on
880 O F BE LIE F.
on a modification, which is called hope. If
the event be extremely agrecable, and the
probability of its exiſting do greatly pre-
ponderate, our hope 1s increaſed proportion-
ally, and ſometimes is conyerted into a firm
belief, that it will really happen. Upon
weak minds, the delightfulneſs of the ex-
pected event, will of itſelf have that effect.
The imagination, fired with the proſpet,
avgmeats the probability, till it convert it
40 4 fim perſuaſion. or belief. On the other
Hand, if fear get the aſcendent, by a con-
ceived improbability of the exiſtence of the
event, the mind deſponds, and fear is con-
vetzed into a firm. belicf, that the event will
not happen. The operations of the mind
Ale. quite e here We view
o EC © FF d «
44 44 14
e195 TVS 15 daneben 21861865) Ln J
29s &\d 23 211. 15 1777. J. "74
*
509 „n 2 N ESSAY
=
& * # 1 EM
-* - - :
IART 05303153 340135 0513
.. BG
E 29808 ATH
of t the 1555 of Sei.r and. reg
"49% 15 £1
Lokxrrry. |
— *
33:1 1
Lu
AD we no original eee
thoſe of the external ſenſes, accord
ig the author of the treatiſe of human
nature, we never could have any conſeiouſ-
neſs of „er; becauſe ſuch conſcibuſneſs tans
not ariſe from any external Tenſe.” Man-
kind would be in # perpetual reverte; | ideas
would be conſtantly floating” in the mind;
and no man be able to connect his ideas with
himſelf. Neither could there be any iden of
perſonal i identity. For a man, cannot conſ
der himſelf to be the ſame porſon, in different
circumſtances, when he has 014 on con. |
ſciouſ neſs * Lance at all. n Veh
irn "oe 10
Dutubs you may be, who are thus con-
ſtituted: but man is none of theſe beings!
It is an undoubted truth, that he has an 04
riginal feeling, or conſciouſneſs of himſelf,
and
2 Ba "2
_ FF » wa 222 —
< — — 1 — —— Awe —
= =
| the mind through its ideas, hos u
232 PERSONAL IDENTITY,
and of his exiſtence; which, for the moſt
part, accompanies every one of his impreſſi-
ons and ideas, and every action of his mind
and body. I fay, for the moſt part; for
the faculty or internal ſenſe, which is the
cauſe of this peculiar. perception, is not al
ways. in action. In a dead ſleep, we have ne
conſciouſneſs of ſelf, We dream ſometimes
Without this conſciouſneſs : and even ſome
of our waking hours paſs without is. A
reverie is nothing elſe, but a wandering of
along on „ GAA feu
771 9927
y
Tuts — e ol; fait
15 at the ſame time, of the livelieſt kind.
Self-preſervation is every one's peculiar du-
ty; and the vivacity of this pereeption, is ne-
ceſſary to make us attentive to our own in-
tereſt, and, particularly, to ſhun every appear-
ance of danger. When a man is in à reve-
rie, he has no circumſpection, nor any man-
net of attention to his own intereſt.
* 7 P
* *
4 * * bd n 0
Sg «4.4 4 * . » — - #
Fr a TIS
2 a# *. *
PERSONAL IDENTITY. 233
Tis remarkable, that one has ſearce any
chande to fall afleep, All this perception |
vaniſh; Its vivitity keeps” the mind in
2 certain degree of | agitation,” which bars
ſleep.” A fall of water diſpoſes to fleep. It
fixes che attention, both by ſound and ſight,
and, without creating much agitation, occu-
pies the mind, ſo as to make it forget itſelf.
n ſows books has —_ enn
** isthis egen or conſciouſnel of
ſelf, catried through all the different ſta-
ges of life, and all the variety of action,
which is the foundation of perſonal identity.
It is, by means of this perception, that I
conſider myſelf to be the ſame perſon, in all
varieties of e and n 1e of
RR LS T1
7 4
Taz main mals aste ee e is
to introduce an obſervation, that it is not by
any argument or reaſoning, I conclude my-
{elf to be the ſame peiſon, Iwas ten years ago
wo concluſion reſts entirely upon the feeling
+69 Gg of
* enden 3 mann -me abt
-all my changes, and which is the only con-
| | netting principle, that binds together, all the
various thoughts and actions of my life.
Far leſs is it by any argument, or chain of
reaſoning; that I.diſcoyer my own exiſtence.
Ir would be ſtrange. indeed, if every man 's
exiſtence, was kept a ſecret from him, till the
celebrated} argument was invented, chat cr
gito ergo ſum. And if a fact, that, to com-
mon underſtanding, appears ſelf-evident, is
not to be relied on without an argument;
why ſhould I take for granted, without-an
argument, that I think, mote than that I
exiſt? For ſurely I ata not more dee
of thinking. han af exibiog,.
"How this ſubject, 1 ſhall juſt faggeſt a
thought, which will be more fully inſiſted
n | afterwards; that any doctrine, which
eads to a diſtruſt of our ſenſes, muſt land in
univerſal ſcepticiſm. If natural feelings,
whether from internal or external ſenſes,
are not admitted as evidence of truth, I can-
7 ö not
PERSONAL IDbENTIT V. 235
not ſee, that we can be certain of any fact
whatever. It is clear, from what is now ob-
ſerved, that, upon this ſceptical ſyſtem,weean-
not be certain even of our own exiſtence ®,
I
2 —— = —
* The deceitful feeling of liberty, unfolded in the eſſay
upon liberty and neceſſity, may perhaps embarraſs ſome
readers, as in ſome meaſure contradiQory to the poſition
here laid down, But the matter is eaſily cleared. Natural
feelings are ſatisfying evidence of truth; and, in ſact, have
full authority over us, unleſs in ſome ſingular caſes, where
we are admoniſhed by counter-feelings, or by reaſoning,
not to- give implicit truſt, This is a ſufficient foundation
for all the arguments, that are built upon the authority of
our ſenſes, in point of evidence. The feeling of liberty
is a very ſingular caſe, The reaſons are clearly traced for
the neceſſity of this deluſive feeling, which diſtinguiſhes it *
in a very particular manner, and leaves no room, to draw
any conſequence from it, to our other feelings. But there
is, beſides, a circumſtance yet more diſtinguiſhing, in this
deluſive feeling of liberty, which entirely exempts it, from
being an exception to the general rule above laid down, It
is this; that the feeling is by no means. entire on the fide
of liberty. It is counter · balanced by other feelings, which,
in many inſtances, afford ſuch a conviction of the neceſſary
influence of motives, that phyſical and moral neceſlity can
ſcarce be diſtinguiſhed. The ſenſe of liberty operates chiefly
in the after reflection. But, previous to the action, there is
no diſtin& or clear feeling, that it can happen atherways,
than in connection with its proper motive, Here the feel-
ings being, on the whole, oppoſite to each other, nothing
* * — — — —— anno me — 3 —
— -——
LS
|
5
ö
6
{
ö
;
|
— A _
236 IDEA OF SEL, &.
can'be inferred from this caſe, to derogate from dhe cri;
dence of eclings that are clear, cogent and authoritative ;
and to whi ; bthtrig can be oppdled, from the fide of rea-
ſon or counter · feelings. 80 that our principle remains ſafe
it la 4 « *x „ al f. 0 3 „ = 3
* 93 . s*yY
: J ' *
1
8 7 , '
F8 oa V1 4 p * # & 14 64
#
ASI 1
| # #* " ",
.
. * - * LEY * 47 1
ED een e tee ,99 Vf EAI
? 4 © : * Pies 2
2 *
*
x
-
: oy
o
l ,
3 ky ap | w 45 92 1 4 14 89: 194 $192
.
* z F *
24 * »
R J '
" *
Fr 0 : D & "1 [3 43 } vi / NL
p * n -
e. PAN.
6 *
, . * ” —
4 ea * 'v „ 3
*
* + 4 4.14 . v
7 I
*
|
: #
14 7
ESSAY Ill.
8 4 1 5 0
Of the Annes of ur. SENSES...
I 2 former eſſay are pointed out ſonic in-
ſtances, in which our ſenſes may be call-
ed deceitful v. They are of two ſorts. One
is, when the deception is occafioned* by in-
diſpoſition of the'organ, remoteneſs of place,
groſſnefs of the medium, of the like ; which
diſtort the appearances of objects, and make
them be ſeen double, or greater or leſs, than
they really are. In ſuch inſtances, the per-
ception is always faint, obſcure or 'confuf-
ed: and they noway invalidate the authoriz
ty of the ſenſes, in general, when, abſtraQ-
ing from ſuch accidental obſtructions, the
perception 1s lively, ſtrong and diſtin. In
the other fort, there is a deception eſtabliſh-
ed by the laws of nature; as in the caſe of
ſecondary qualities, taken notice of in that
eſſay ; whence'it was inferred, that nature
does not always give us ſuch correct per-
ceptions, as correſpond to the philoſophic
| truth
237
Eſſay upon liberty and i
238 AUTHORITYOF
truth of things. Notwithſtanding of which,
the teſtimony of our ſenſes ſtill remains, as a
ſufficient ground of confidende and truſt. For,
in all theſe caſes, where there is. this ſort of
eſtabliſhed deception, nature furniſhes means
for coming at the truth. As in this very in-
flance of ſecondary qualities, philoſophy, ca-
ſily corrects the falſe appearances, and teach-
es us, that they are rather to be conſidered,
as impreſſions made upon the mind, than as
qualities of the object. A remedy being thus
provided to the deception, our belief, ſo far
as it can be influenced by reaſon, is the more
confirmed, with regard to our other ſenſati-
ons, where there is no appcarance of illuſi-
on. But this is not the whole of the matter.
When any ſenſe preſents to our view, an ap-
pearance that may be called deceitful, we
plainly diſcover ſome uſeful. purpoſe intend;
ed. The deecit is not the effect of an im-
perfect or arbitrary conſtitution; but wiſely
contrived, to give us ſuch notice of things, as
may beſt ſuit the purpoſes of life. From this
very conſideration, we are the more confirm-
11 0d
O DURSENS ES. 23
ed in the veracity of nature. Particular in-
ſtances, in which, our ſenſes are accommo-
dated to the uſſ of life, rather than to the
ſtrictneſs of truth, are rational exceptions,
which ſerve, the more firmly, to eſtabliſh the
general rule. And, indeed, When we have
nothing but our ſenſes to direct our conduct,
with regard to external objects, it would be
ſtrange; if there ſnould be any juſt ground,
for a] general diſtruſt of them. But there is
no ſuch thing. There is nothing to which
all mankind, are more noceſſarily determin-
ed, than toi put confidente in their ſeiiſes.
We entertain na doubt ob their authority, bes
cauſe we are'ſo-conſtituted; that it is not in
our n Suk i %% 104 n
I
bb hs N of uri ſenſes? is tal
founded on the neceſſity of our nature; and
confirmed. by conſtant experience, it cannot
but appear ſtrange, that it ſhould-come into
the thought, of any man to call it in queſti-
on. But the influence of novelty is great;
and when a bold genius, in ſpite of common
| ſenſe,
— — — — —— nn... 7˙—˙¾ — —
—— — _—_
2 AUT HORIT YO
ſenſe, and common feelings, will ſtrike out
new. parhs to himſelf, tis not eaſy to foreſee,
o Far his airy metaphyffbal notions. may
carry him. A late author, who gives us a
treatiſe concerning the: principles of human
knowledge,” by denying the reality of ex-
tertial objects, ſtrikes at the root of the au-
thority of dur ſemſes, and thereby paves the
way to the moſt inveterate ſcepticiſm. For
what reliance· can we have upon our ſenſes,
if chey deceive us in a point ſo material? If
ve can be; prevailed upon, to doubt of the
reality of external objects, the; next ſtep will
be; to doubt of what paſſes in our own
minds, of the reality of our ideas and per-
ceptions. For we have not à ſtronger con-
ſciouſneſs, nor a clearer conviction of the
one; than of the other. And the laſt ſtep
will be, to doubt of our own exiſtence; for
it is ſhown in the eſſay immediately forego-
ing, that we have no certainty of this fact,
but what depends upon ſenſe and feeling.
*
OURSENSES. 24
I is reported, that doctor Berkeley, the
author of the abovementioned treatiſe, Was
moved to adopt this whimſical opinion, to
get free of ſome arguments, urged by materi-
aliſts againſt the exiſtence of the Deity. If
ſo, he has been unhappy in his experiment ;
for this doctrine, if it ſhould not lead to u-
niverſal ſcepticiſm, affords, at leaſt, a ſhrewd
argument in favours of Atheiſm. If I can
only be conſcious of what paſſes in my own
mind, and if I cannot truſt my-ſenſes, when
they give me notice of external and indepen-
dent exiſtences; it follows, that I am the of
being in the world; at leaft, that! can have
no evidence from my ſenſes, of any other
being, body or ſpirit. This i is certainly an un-
wary conceſſion ; becauſe it deprives us of
our principal, or only, inlet to the knowledge
of the Deity. Laying aſide ſenſe and feel-
ing, this learned divine will find it a difficult
task, to Point out by what other means it is,
that we make the diſcovety of the above im-
portant truth. But of this more afterwards.
= „
242 AUTHORITY OF
Wx there nothing elſe in view, but to
eſtabliſh the reality of external objects, it
would be ſcarce worth while, to beſtow much
thought, in ſolving metaphyſical paradoxes
. againſt their exiſtence, which are better con-
futed by common ſenſe and experience. But,
as the above doctrine appears to have very
extenſive conſequences, and to ſtrike at the
root of the moſt valuable branches of hum-
an knowledge; an attempt to re-eſtabliſh the
authority of our ſenſes, by detecting the fal-
lacy of the arguments that have been urged
againſt j it, may, it is hoped, not be unaccept-
able. to the public, The attempt, at any
tate, is neceſſary i in this work, the main pur-
poſe of which is, to ſhow that our ſenſes, ex-
ternal and internal, are the true ſources, from
whence the ns of the di is de-
_ rived: to us.
. * EE Ya to afford ſaisfation upon a ſub-
ject, which is eaſier felt. than expreſt, it will
be proper, to give a diſtinct analyſis of the o-
perations of thoſe ſenſes, by which we per-
21 ceive
" OUR SENSES. 243
ceire external objects. And, if this be once
clearly apprehended, it will not be a matter
of difficulty, to anſwer the ſeveral objections,
which have been urged againſt their exiſt-
ence.
Tux impreſſions of the external fenſes
are of different kinds. Some we have at the
organs of ſenſe, ſuch as ſmelling, taſting,
touching. Some are made upon us as from a
diſtance, ſuch as hearing and ſeeing. From
the ſenſe of feeling, are derived the impreſſi-
ons of body, ſolidity and external exiſtence.
Laying my hand upon this table, I perceive a
thing ſmooth and hard, preſſing upon my
hand, and which is perceived as more diſtant
from me, than my hand is. From the ſight,
we have the impreſſions of motion and of co-
lour; and from the ſight as well as from the
touch, thoſe of extenſion and figure. But
it is more material to obſerve, upon the
preſent ſubject, that from ſight as well as
an, we have the impreſſion of things
as
*
244 AUTHORITYQF
as having an independent and ee or
| r exiſtence, | f
Le us Sees to * this made,
cation of independency and permanent ex-
iſtence of the objects of ſight and touch, for
it is a cardinal point. To begin with the
objects of light. I. caſt my eye upon a
tree, and pexceive colour, figure, extention,
| and ſometimes motion. If this be a com-
plete analyſis of the perception, ſubſtance is
| pot diſcoverable by ſigbt. But upon, atten-
tively: examining this. perception, to try it
there be any thing more in it, I find one cir-
eumſtance omitted, that the above particulars,
are not perceived as ſo many ſeparate exiſt-
ences, having no relation to each other, but
as cloſely united and connected. When look»
ing around on different objects, I perccive
colout in one quarter, motion in a; ſecond,
and extenſion in a third; the appearance theſe
make in my mind; are in nothing ſimilar to
the impteſſion made by a tree, where the
extenſion, motion, and other qualities, are
| iatroduced
: OUR SENSES. 245
introduced into the mind, under the modi-
fication of an intimate connection and uni-
on. But in what manner are they united
and connected? Of this, every perſon. can
inhering in, or belonging to ſome ſubſtance or
thing, of which they are qualities; and that,
by their reference to this ſubſtance or thing,
they are thus cloſely united and connected.
Thus it is, that the impreſſion of ſulſtance, as
well as of qualities, is derived from ſight. And
it is alſo to be attended to, as a part of the
total impreſſion, that as the qualities appear
to belong to their ſubſtance, and to inhere
in it, ſo both the ſubſtance and its qualities,
which we call the tree, are perceived as al-
together independent of us, as really exiſt-
ng, and as ths a permanent exiſtence.
-Aq SIMILAR de ts n upon 1 us,
by means of the ſenſe of feeling. It is ob-
ſerved above, that, from the touch, we have
the impreſſions, of body, ſolidity and exter-
give an account, that they are perceived as
— —ͥ— —
—
|
|
vr
f
j
i
|
4
}
;
— — — — — — — — —
— a —
246 AUTHORITY OF
nal exiſtence; and we have, from the ſame
ſenſe; the impreſſions of ſoftneſs and hard-
neſs, ſmoothneſs and roughneſs. '' Now,
when J lay my hand upon this table, I have
an impreſſion, not only of ſmoothneſs, hard-
neſs, figure and extenſion, but alſo of a
_ thing I call boch, of which the above are per-
ceived as qualities. Smoothneſs, hardneſs,
extenſion and figure are felt, not as ſeparate
and unconnected exiſtences, but as inher-
ing in and belonging to ſomething I call bo-
dy; which is really exiſting, and which has
an independent and permanent exiſtence.
And it is this body, with its ſeveral n
| whichy 1 wen by the word *
Tr e n of the W
of ſight and touch, will be beſt illuſtrated,
by a compariſon with the impreſſions made
by che other ſenſes. I hear à ſound, or 1
feel a ſmell. Attending to theſe impreſſi-
ons, I perceive nothing but ſound or ſmell.
They are not perceived as the qualities or
properties of any * thing or ſubſtance.
ö They
OUR SENSES... 247
They make their appearance in the mind as
{imple exiſtences; and there is no impreſſi-
on made of independency, or. permanent
exiſtence. . Did ſeeing and feeling carry us
no further, we never could have the leaſt
conception of ſubſtance. . _ bobs
*T1s not a little ſurpriſing, that philoſo-
phers, who diſcourſe ſo currently of qualities,
ſhould affect ſo much doubt and heſitation a-
bout ſabſtance; lecing theſe are relative ideas,
and imply each other. For what other rea-
ſon do we call figure a quality, but that we
perceive it, not as a ſeparate exiſtence, but as
belonging to ſomething that is figured; and
which thing we call ſubſtance, becauſe it is
not a property of any other thing, but is a
thing which ſubſiſts by itſelf, or has an in-
dependent exiſtence. Did we perceive ſi-
gure, as we perceive ſound, it would not be
conſidered as a quality. In a word, a qua-
lity is not intelligible, unleſs upon ſuppoſiti-
on of ſome other thing, of which it is the
ia Sounds indeed, and ſmells are alſo
COn-
248 AUTHORITY OF |
confidered as qualities. But this proceeds
from habit, not from original perception.
For, having once acquired the diſtinction be-
twixt à thing and its qualities, and finding
ſound and ſmell, more to reſemble qualities
than ſubſtances, we readily come into the uſe
of conſidering them as qualities,
. ANOTHER thing is to be obſerved with
regard to thoſe things, which are perceived
as qualities by the fight and touch; that we
cannot form a conception of them, indepen-
dent of the beings to which they belong.
It is not in our power, to ſeparate, even in
imagination, colour, figure, motion and ex-
tenſion from body or ſubſtance. There is
no ſuch thing as conceiving motion by itſelf,
abſtracted from ſome body which is in mo-
tion. Let us try ever ſo often, our attempts
will be in vain; to form an idea of a triangle
independent of a body which has that figure.
We cannot conceive a body that ls not fi-
gured; and we can as little conceive a figure
without a body; for this would be to con-
3 | celve
OURSEN SES. 24
Celve a Seite, as having 2 ſeparate exiſtence,
at the ſame time, that we conceive it, as hay-
ing no ſeparate exiſtence; or to conceive it,
at once, to be a quality, and not a quality.
Thus it comes out, that ſubſlance, as well as
quality, makes a part, not only of every per-
ception of ſight-and touch, but of every con-
ception we can form, of colour, figure, exten-
fion and motion. Taking in the whole train
of our ideas, there is not one more familiar
to us, than that of ſubſtance, a = or ln
which has ne
Wur N theſe OM are contin I can-
not readily diſcover, by what wrong con-
ception of the matter, Mr. Locke has been
led, to talk fo obſcurely and indiſtinctly of
the idea of ſubſtance. Tis no wonder, he
ſhould be difficulted, to form an idea of ſub-
ſtance in general, abſtracted from all proper-
ties, when ſuch abſtraction is altogether be-
yond the reach of our conception. But
there is nothing more eaſy, than to form an
idea of any particular ſubſtance with its pro-
Ii | perties.
, 250 AUTHORITY OF
perties. Yet this has ſome how eſcaped him.
When he forms the idea of a horſe or a
ſtone, he admits nothing into the idea, but
a collection of ſeveral ſimple ideas of ſenſible
qualities T. And becauſe, ſays he, we
cannot conceive how theſe qualities ſhould
« ſubſiſt alone, nor one in another, we ſup-
tt poſe them exiſting in, and ſupported by
e ſome common ſubject; which ſupport, we
« denote by the name ſubſtance, tho” it be
.* certain, we have no clear or diſtin& idea
« of that thing we ſuppoſe a ſupport.” A
ſingle queſtion would have unfolded the
whole myſtery. How comes it, that we
cannot conceive qualities to ſubſiſt alone, nor
one in another? Mr. Locke himſelf muſt
have given the following anſwer, that the
thing is not conceiveable; becauſe a proper-
ty or quality cannot ſubſiſt without the thing
to which it belongs; for, if it did, that it
would ceaſe to be a property or quality.
Why then does he make fo faint an infe-
rence, as that we ſuppoſe qualities exiſting in,
and ſupported by ſome common fubje&? It
+ Book 2d, chap. 23. | 7
- OURSENSES 25
is not a bare ſuppoſition: it is an eſſential
part of the idea: it is neceſſarily ſuggeſted
to us by ſight and touch. He obſerves
that we have no clear nor diſtin idea of
ſubſtarice, If he means, that we have no
clear nor diſtin& idea of ſubſtance abſtract-
ed from its properties, the thing is ſo true,
that we can form-no . of ſubſtance at all,
abſtracted from its properties. Butit is alſo true,
that we can form no idea of properties, ab-
ſtracted from a ſubſtance. The ideas both of
ſubſtance and of quality are perfectly in the
fame condition, in this reſpect; which /, tis ſur-
priſing, philoſophers :ſhould ſo little attend
to. At the ſame time, we have clear and
diſtinct ideas, of many things as they exiſt ;
tho' perhaps we have not a complete idea of
any one thing. We have ſuch ideas of
things, as ſerve to all the uſeful purpoſes of
life. Tis true, our ſenſes don't reach be⸗ |
yond the external properties of beings. We
have no direct perception of the eſſence and
internal properties of any thing. Theſe we
diſcover from the effects produced. But had
we ſenſes directly to perceive the eſſence and
| intcrnal
255 AUTHORITY OF
internal properties of things, our idea of them
would indeed be more full and completo,
but not more clear and diſtinct, than at pre-
ſent, For, even upon that ſuppoſition, -we |
could form no notion of ſubſtance, but by
its properties internal and external. Io
form an idea of a abſtracted from m
er e ny e. een e det
=
Tus following is the Lge: nh ike
kid down. By ſight and touch, we have the
impreſſions of ſubſtance/and body, as well as
of qualities; It is not figure; extenſion, mo-
tion; that we perceive; butt a thing figured,
extended and moving. As we cannot form
an idea of ſubſtance abſtracted from quali-
ties, ſo we cannot form an idea of qualities
abſtracted from ſubſtance. They are rela-
tive ideas, and imply each other. This is
one point gained. Another is, that the idea
of ſubſtance or body, thus attained, compre-
bonds in it, independent and permanent ex-
iſtence; that is, ſomething which exiſts in-
dependent of our perceptions, and remains
the fame, whether we perceive it or not.
IN
OURSENSES. 253
IN this manner are we made ſenſible of
the real exiſtence of things without us. The
feeling is ſo ſtrong, and the conviction which
makes a part of the feeling, that ſceptical
arguments, however cunningly deviſed, may
puzzle, but can never get the better: fox
ſuch is our conſtitution, that we can enter-
tain no doubt of the authority of our ſenſes;
in this particular. At the fame time, every
ſort of experience confirms the truth of bur
perceptions, | I ſee a tree at a diſtance; of a
certain ſhape and ſize. Walking forward, I
find it in its place, by the reſiſtance it makes
to my body; and, ſo far as I can diſcover by
touch, it is of the ſame ſhape and fize, which
my eye repreſents it to be. I return day af-
ter day, year after year, and find the ſame
odject, with no other variation, but what the
ſeaſons and time produce. The tree is at
laſt cut down. It is no longer to be ſeen or
felt.
To overthrow the authority of our ſen-
fes, a few particular inſtances, in which they
| appear
254 AUTHORITYOF
appear fallacious; are of no weight. And
to confirm this. branch of the argument, we
need but compare the evidence of our ſen-
ſes; with the evidence of human teſtimony,
The compariſon cannot fail to afford fatis-
faction. Veracity, and a diſpoſition to rely
upon human evidence, are correſponding
prigciples, which greatly promate ſociety.
Among individuals, theſe principles are found
to be of different degrees of ſtrength. But,
in the main, they are ſo proportioned to each
other, that men are not often deceived. In
this caſe, it would be but a bad argument,
that we ought not to give credit to any man's
teſtimony, becauſe ſome men are defective
in the principle of veracity. The only ef-
fect ſuch inſtances have, or ought to have, is
to correct our propenſity to believe, and to
bring on a habit of ſuſpending our belief,
till circumſtances be examined, The evi-
dence of our ſenſes, riſes undoubtedly much
higher, than the evidence of human teſtimo-
ny. And if we continue to put truſt in the
latter, after many inſtances of being deceiv-
JS 3
OUR SENSES. 235
ed, we have better reaſon to put truſt in the
former, were the inſtances of being deceiv-
ed equally numerous; which is plainly not
the fact. When people are in ſound health
of mind and body, they are very ſeldom
miſ- led by their ſenſes
1178y-1 hee been fo lucky, as to put this
ſubject in its proper light, it will not be
u difficult task to clear it of any doubts
which may ariſe, upon peruſing: the above
mentioned treatiſe. The author boldly de-
[nies the exiſtence of matter, and the re-
ality of the objects of ſenſe ; contending, that
there is nothing really exiſting without the
mind of an intelligent being; in a word, re-
ducing all to be a world of ideas. It is an
opinion ſtrangely prevailing among men,
“ (ſays he) that houſes, mountains, rivers,
« and, ina word, all ſenſible objects, have an
< exiſtence, natural or real, diſtinct from
te their being perceived by the underſtand-
« ing.” He ventures to call this a manifeſt
contradiction; and his argument againſt the
| reality
| 256 AUTHORITY OF
reality of theſe objects, is in the following
words. The forementioned objects are
things perceived by ſenſe. We cannot
4. perceive any thing, but our own ideas or
40 perceptions; therefore, what we call men,
c houſes, mountains, &c. cn be nothing
& elſe but ideas or perceptions.” This ar-
gument ſhall be examined afterwards, with
the reſpe& that is due to its author. It ſhall
only be taken notice of by the way, that,
ſuppoſing mankind to be under ſo ſtrange and
unaccountable a deluſion, as to miſtake their
ideas for men, houſes, mountains, Gc. it
will not follow, that there is in this, any
manifeſt contradiction, or any contradiction
at all. For deception is a very different thing
from contradiction. But he falls from this
high pretenſion, in the after part of his work,
to argue more conſiſtently, that, ſuppoſ-
ing ſolid, figured, and moveable ſubſtan-
© ces, to exiſt without the mind, yet we
could never come to the knowledge of
„ this *,” Which is true, if our ſenſes
| | _=—
* Sect. 18.
2 URSENSES. 257
beat no teſtimony, of the fact. And he
adds *, ( that, ſuppoſing no bodies to exiſt
© without the mind, we might have the ve-
« ry ſame reaſons for ſuppoſing the exiſtence
© of external bodies, that we have now:“
which may be true, ſuppoſing only our ſen-
ſes to be fallacious.
| Ti 18 doctor's fundamental propoſition ts,
that we can perceive nothing- but our own
ideas or perceptions. This, at beſt, is an
ambiguous expreſſion. For, taking percep-
tion or ſenſation. in its proper ſenſe, as ſigni-
ſying every object we perceive, it is a mere
identical propoſition, ſciæ. that we perceive
nothing but what we perceive. But, taking
the doctor's propoſition as he intended it,
that we can have no perception or conſeiouſ-
neſs of any thing, but what exiſts in our own
minds, he had certainly no reaſon to take
this aſſertion for granted;. and yet he has
never once attempted a proof of it: tho', in
ſo bold an undertaking, as that of annihilat-
KRK ing
43H SR. 20,
28 AUT HORITYOF
ing the whole univerſe, his own mind ex-
cepted, he had no reaſon to hope, that an
aſſertion, ſo ſingular, and ſo contradictory to
common ſenſe and feeling, would be taken
upon his word. It may be true, that it is
not eaſy to explain, nor even to comprehend,
by what means we perceive external objects.
But our ignorance is, in moſt caſes, a very
indifferent argument againſt matter of fact.
At this rate, he may take upon him equal-
ly. to deny the bulk of the operations in the
natural world, which have not hitherto been
explained by him, or others. And at, bot -
tom, tis perhaps as difficult to explain the
manner of perceiving our on ideas, or the
impreſſions made upon us, as to explain the
manner of perceiving external objects. The
doctor, beſides, ought to have conſidered,
that by this bold doctrine, he, in effect, ſets
bounds to the power of nature, or of the
Author of nature. If it was in the power of
the Almighty, to beſtow upon man, a facul--
ty of perceiving external objects, he has cer-
tainly done it. For, ſuppoſing the exiſtence
| ;- * of
'+r OURSENSES. 239
of external objects, we have no conception,
how they could be otherways manifeſted to
us, than in fact they are. Therefore, the
doctor was in the right to aſſert, that a fa-
culty in man to perceive external objects,
would be a contradiction, and conſequently
a privilege not in the power of the Deity to
beſtow upon him. He perceived the neceſ-
ſity of carrying his argument ſo far; at the
ſame time, ſenſible that this was not to be
made out, he never once attempts to point
at any thing like a contradiction. And if
he cannot prove it to be a contradiction, the
queſtion is at an end; for, ſuppoſing only
the fact to be poſſible, we have the very
higheſt evidence of its reality, that our na-
ture is capable of, no leſs than the teſtimo-
ny of our ſenſes.
Ir has been urged in ſupport of the above
doctrine, that nothing is preſent to the mind,
but the impreſſions made upon it, and that
it cannot be conſcious of any thing but what
is _ 'This. * is eaſily ſolved.
For
9
|
266 AUT HORITYOF
For the propoſition, that we cannot be con-
ſcious of any thing but what is preſent to
the mind, or paſſes within it, is taken for
granted, as if it were ſelf-evident. And yet
the direct contrary is an evident fact, ſciz.
that we are conſcious of many things which
are not preſent to the mind; that is, which
are not, like impreſſions and ideas, within the
mind. Nor is there any manner of difficul-
ty to conceive, that an impreſſion may be
made upon us, by an external object, in
ſuch a manner, as to raiſe a direct percepti-
on of the external object itſelf. When we
attend to the operations of the external ſenſes,
the impreſſions made upon us by external
objects, are diſcovered to have very different
effects. In ſome inſtances we feel the im-
preſſion, and are conſcious of it, as an im-
preſſion. In others, being quite unconſci-
ous of the impreſſion, we perceive only the
external object. And to give full ſatisfacti ·
on to the reader, upon the preſent ſubject, it
may perhaps not be fruitleſs, briefly to
run over the operations of the ſeveral exter-
nal
dURSENSEsS. 261
nal ſenſes, by which the mind is made con-
ſeious of external objects, and of their pro-
perties.
Ax firſt, with regard to the ſenſe of
ſmelling, which gives us no notice of ex-
ternal exiſtences. Here the operation is
of the ſimpleſt kind. It is no more but an
impreſſion made at the organ, which is per-
ceived as an impreſſion. Experience, 'tis
true, and habit, lead us to aſcribe this parti-
cular impreſſion to ſome external thing as its
cauſe, Thus, when a particular impreſſion
is made upon us, termed the ſweet ſmell of
a roſe, we learn to aſcribe it to a roſe, tho
there is no ſuch object within view, becauſe
that peculiar impreſſion upon the organ of
_ ſmelling, is always found to accompany the
ſight and touch of the body, called a roſe.
But that this connection is the child of ex-
perience only, will be evident from the fol.
lowing conſiderations; that, when a new
ſmell is perceived, we are utterly at a loſs,
what cauſe to aſcribe it to; and, that when
a child feels a ſmell, it is not led to aſſign it
to
262 AUTHORITYOF |
to any cauſe whatever. In this caſe, there
dan be no other difficulty, but to compre-
hend, in what manner the mind becomes
conſcious of an impreſſion, made- upon the
body. Upon which, it ſeems ſufficient to ob-
ſerve, that we are kept entirely ignorant, in
what manner the foul and body are conneR-
ed; which is no ſingular caſe. But, from
our ignorance of the manner of this connec-
tion, to deny the reality of external exiſten-
ces, reducing all to a world of ideas, is in re-
ality not leſs whimſical, than if one, after
admitting the reality of external exiſten-
ces, ſhould po about to deny, that we have
any perception of them ; merely becauſe we
cannot fully account for the manner of this
perception, nor how a material ſubſtance can
communicate itſelf to the mind, which is ſpi-
rit and not matter. The fame obſervations
may be applied to the ſenſe of hearing; with
this difference only, that a ſound is not per-
ceived, at leaſt not originally, as an imprefli-
on made at the organ, but merely as an ex-
iſtence in the mind. Fo
In
OUR SENSES. 263
I the ſenſes of taſting and touching, we
are conſcious not only of an impreſſion made
at the organ, but alſo of a body which
makes the impreſſion. When I lay my
hand upon this table, the impreſſion is of a
hard ſmooth boy, which reſiſts the moti-
on of my hand. In this impreſſion, there
is nothing to create the leaſt ſuſpicion of fal-
lacy. The body acts where it is, and it acts
merely by reſiſtance. There occurs not,
therefore, any other difficulty in this caſe,
than that mentioned above, ſcix. after what
manner an impreſſion made at an organ of
the body, is communicated to, or perceived
by the mind. We ſhall only add upon this
head, that tobch alone, which is the leaſt
intricate. of all oùr feelings, is ſufficient to
overthrow the dòctors whole pompous
ſyſtem. We have, from that ſenſe, the full-
eſt and cleareſt perception of external ex-
iſtences, that can be conceived, ſubject to no
doubt, ambiguity, nor even cavil. And this
aufden mult at the ſame time, ſupport
the
264 AUTHORITY OF
the authority of our ſenſes, when they give
us notice of external exiſtences. ©
| War remains to be examined, is the
ſenſe of ſeeing, which, tis preſumed, the
doctor had principally an eye to, in arguing
againſt the reality of external exiſtences, And
indeed, the operation of perceiving objects
at a diſtance, is ſo curious, and fo ſingular,
that it is nat ſurprifing, a rigid philoſopher
ſhould be puzzled about it. In this caſe,
there is a difficulty, which applies with, ſome
ſhew of ſtrength, and which poſlibly has
had weight with our author, tho' it is
never once mentioned by him. It is, that
no being can act but where it is, and that a
body, at a diſtance, cannot act ypon the
mind, more than the mind upon it. I muſt
tandidly own, that this argument appears
to evince the neceſſity, of ſome intermediate
means, in the act of viſion, One means is
ſuggeſted by matter of fat. The! image of
a viſible object, is painted upon the retina
of the eye. And it is not more difficult to
con-
0 URSENꝭSSES. 265
conceive, that this image may be ſome how
conveyed to the mind, than to conceive the
manner of its being painted upon the retina.
This cireumſtance puts the operation of vi-
ſion, in one reſpect, upon the ſame footing,
with that of touching; both being per form-
ed by means of an impreſſion made at the
organ. There is indeed this eſſential diffe-
rence, that the impreſſion of touch is felt as
ſuch, whereas the impreſſion of ſight is not
felt: we are not conſeious of any ſuch im-
preſſion, but merely of the object idelf, which
2 ww hw we £70
"Ann hin à curious piece of n
Where to our view. Tho an impreſ-
ſion is made upon the mind, by means of
the image painted upon the retina, whereby
the external object is perceived; yet nature
has carefully concealed this impreſſion from
us, in order to remove all ambiguity, and to
give us a diſtin& feeling of the object itſelf,
and of that only. In touching and taſting,
the impreſſion made at the organ, is ſo cloſe-
Ll | ly
266 AUTHOR ITYOF
Iy connected with. the body which makes
the impreſſion, that the perception of the
impreſlian, along with that of the body, cre-
ates no confuſion nor amhiguity. the bady
being felt as operating x here it really is. But
were the impreſſion of a viſible object felt,
as made at the retina, Which is the organ of
light, all objects behoxed ta be ſeen as with;
in the cye- It is doubted among; natupaliſts,
whether outneſs or diſtance is at all diſcover-
able by ſight, and whether that appearance be
Not the effect of experitnee. But bodies, and
their operations, are ſa cloſely connected in
place, that were we confcious of an organic
impreſſion at the retina, the mind would
have à conſtant propenſity to plane the body
there alſo ; which would be a circumſtance
extremely, perplexing; in the act of viſion, 2s
{tting feeling and experience in perpetual
oppoſition ;; enough to pniſon all the e
K we enjoy I" * .
* 1 2 eds is
is a worſt reaſon in the world for denying
_y
O URSEN SBS. 267
any well atteſted fact, that we cannot ac-
count for the manner by which it is brought
about. It is true, we cannot explain, after
what manner it is, that, by the intervention
of the rays of light, the beings, and things
around us, are laid open to our view; but it
is mere arrogance, to pretend to doubt of the
fact, upon that account; for it is, in eſſect,
maintaining, that there is nothing in —
e wa we' can I"
22 perception of objects at a diſtance,
by intervention of the rays of light, in-
volves no inconſiſtency nor impoſlibility.
And unleſs this could be aſſerted, we have
no reaſon nor foundation to with-hold that
aſſent to a matter of fact, which is due to the
authority of our ſenſes. And after all, this
particular ſtep of the operation of viſion, is,
at bottom, not more difficult to be conceiv-
ed or aceounted for, than the other ſteps, of
which no man entertains a doubt. It is, per-
haps, not eaſy to explain, how the image of an
external body is painted upon the retina tumi-
E cd.
26 AUTHORITY OF
ca. And no perſon pretends to explain, how
this image is communicated to the mind.
Why then ſhould we heſitate about the
laſt ſtep, to wit the perception of external
objects, more than about the two former,
when they are all equally ſupported, by the
moſt unexceptionable evidence. The whole
operation of yiſion far ſurpaſſes human know-
ledge: but not more, than the operation of
magnetiſm, electricity, and a thouſand other
natural appearances; and our ignorance of
the cauſe, ought not to make us ſuſpect de-
ceit in * one caſe, more than! in the aher.
WI ſhall hah 1 this Abies with the
following reflection. Whether our. percep-
tion of the reality of external objects, corre-
ſponds to the truth of things, or whether it
be a mere Illuſion, is a queſtion, which, from
the nature of the thing, cannot admit of a
ftrit demonſtration. One thing is certain,
that, ſuppoſing the reality of external ob-
jects, we can form no conception of their
being * to us, in a more lively and
| con-
OUR SENSES, 269
eonvincing manner, than in fact is done.
Why then call a thing in doubt, of which
we have as good evidence, as human nature
is capable of receiving? But we cannot call
it in doubt, otherways than in ſpeculation,
and even then, but for a moment. We have
a thorough conviction of the reality of exter-
nal objects; it riſes to the higheſt certainty
of belief; and we act, in conſequence of it,
with the greateſt ſecurity of not being de-
ceived. Nor are we in fact deceived. When
we put the matter to a trial, every experi-
ment anſwers to our perceptions, and con-
firms us more and more in our belief.
\
ESSAY
ESSAY. IV.
Of our IDEA Sea.
' "H E ſabjed propoſed t to be handled i in
1. the preſent eſlay is the idea of power,
and. * origin. This term is found i in all
languages: we talk familiarly, of a power
in one body, to produce certain effects, and
of aſcapacity in another body, to have cer-
tain effects produced upon it. Yet authors
have differed ſtrangely, about the foundati-
on of theſe ideas; ; and, after all that has been
faid, it ſeems yet to be a matter of uncer-
tainty, whether they are ſuggeſted by reaſon,
by experience, or by what other means.
This ſubject deſerves our attention the more,
that the bulk of uſeful knowledge depends
upon it. Without ſome inſi ght into cauſes
and their effects, we ſhould be a very imper-
fe@ race of beings. And, with regard to
the preſent undertaking, this ſubject muſt
not, at any rate, be overlooked ; becauſe
from i, principally, is derived any know-
ledge
27 IDEA OF POWER.
ledge we have of vg Deity, 2 will be after-
wards made evide _-
14 91 V7 © © Ad 42 0 0
Pow RR Fenoxes a . ides which,
upon that account, CAunôt admit of a —
tion. * But no perſon is. nor can | Be? at a
about the meaning, Every atiohwe peel
gives 1 us 15 notion of power; for 4 produc.
tive dau E is implied ir in dur perception of e-
very action ion of cyent * and the very idea &
cauſe compreliends a power of producing
Its effect. Let us only reflect bp on the per-
ception we have, ben we fee 2 lens thrown
into the air out of or one 8 hand. ; Is the per- er-
ception of this action, are included, contigu-
ity of the hand and ſtone, the n motion of the
perſon's hand with the ſtone in it, and
the ſeparate motion of the fone, following
the other circumſtances in point of time.
The firſt circumſtance is neceffary, to put the
man in a condition to exert his power upon
the ſtone; the ſecond is the actual exertion of
the power ; ; and the laff ! is the effect produc-
<WOTA YT $4.0 | | mean Bah -
ly of liberty and neceſſity.
1 84 OF POWER. 273
ed by that exertion. But theſe | circumſtan-
ces, Which include both contiguity and ſuc-
ceſſion, make no Part of the idea of power;
which i is conceived'or felt as an inherent pro-
perty fubſifting i in the man, not merely when
| lets exerting it, but even when he i is at reſt.
That all men haye this very idea, is a fad
not to be controverted. The only doubt i is,
whence it! is derived; from what ſource 5
frings. ä
a Ti AT BOB cannot help us out, will be
evident.” For reaſon muſt always have ſome
object to employ itſelf upon. There muſt be
known Data or principles, to lead us to the
diſcovery of things, which are connected with
theſe Data or principles. But with regard to
power, which makes a neceſſary connection
betwixt a cauſe and its effect, we have no Data
nor principles to lead us to the diſcovery. We
are not acquainted with the beings and things
about us, otherways than by certain qualities
and properties, obvious to. the external ſen-
ſes. Power is none of theſe; nor is there
25 Mm i any
— . — — —
OS — ä——ää— ³ — DT TI
N
27 IDEA OF POWER.
any connection which we can diſcover, be-
twixt power and any of theſe. In a word,
we have not the leaſt foundation for conclud-
ing power in any body, till it once exert its
power. If it be urged, that, the effecis pro:
duced are Dara, from which, we can infer
à cauſe by a proceſs of, reaſoning, . and con-
ſequently, a power in the cauſe to produce
theſe effects; I anſwer, that when A new.
thing or quality is produced, when in gene-
ral any change is brought about, it is ex-
tremely doubtful, whether, by any proceſs; of
reaſoning, we can conclude i it to be an effect,
ſo as neceſſarily to require a cauſe of its exiſt-
ence. That we do conclude i it to be an ef-
fect, i is moſt certain. But that we can draw
any ſuch concluſion, merely from gon, I
tow t clearly fee. What leads me, I confeſs,
to this ay, of thinking, is, thas men of the
greateſt | genius have been unſucceſsful, in at-
tempting, to prove, that every thing which be-
gins to exiſt, muſt have a cauſe of its exiſtence;
Whatever is produced (fays Mr.,;Locke)
* nt any cauſe, is Pang by nothing:
or,
IDEA OF POWER. 375
6 or, in other words, has norbing for its
te cauſe;' But not bing can never be a cauſe,
«no more than it can be ſomet hing.“ This
is obviouſly begging the queſtion. To af-
firm that nothing is the cauſe, is taking for
granted that a cauſe is neceſſary; which is
the very point undertaken to be made out.
Doctor Clarke's argument labours under the
fame defect. Every thing (he ſays) muſt
* have a cauſe; for if any thing wanted a
* cauſe, it would produce itſelf; that is, exiſt
before it exiſted, which is impoſſible.” If
a thing can exiſt without a cauſe, there is no
neceſſity it ſhould produce itſelf, or that any
thing ſhould produce it. In ſhort, there does
not appear to me any contradiction in the
above propoſition, that a thing may begin to
exiſt without a cauſe: and therefore, J dare
not declare the fact to be impoſſible. But
ſenſe and feeling afford me a conviction, that
nothing begins to exiſt without a cauſe, tho”
reaſon cannot afford me a demonſtration of
it. This matter will be opened afterwards.
At preſent, it is ſufficient to obſerve, that the
1 con-
276 IDEA OF POWER!
eanvidtion. in this caſe Is complete, and cars
Figs ſo much authority with it, as ſcarce, to
290pt of = bare conception, that the thing
can poſſib ly be otherways. This ſubject, at
the ſame time, affords a new inſtance of what
ue haye had more than once occaſion to ob-
ſerve. Fond of arguments drawn from the
nature of things, we are too apt to apply ſuch
arguments without diſcretion ; and to call
that demonſtration, which, at bottom; is no-
thing but a conviction from ſenſe and feel- -
ing. Our perceptions, which work ſilently,
and without effort, are apt to be overlook-
ed; and we vainly imagine, we can demon-
ſtrate every ee which. we be
er 1 12
* vill be pretty ing: darch ide of
power is not deducible from experience,
more than from reaſon, We can learn no-
thing merely from experience, but that two
objects may have been conſtantly conjoined
in time paſt, ſuch as fire and heat; the ſun
and light. But, in the firſt place, all that
bio Can
IDEA OF POWEN 27
can be gathered from ſuch factꝭ, cotnes far
ſhort of our idea of cauſe and effect, or of 2
power in / one body to produce ſome change
in another. In the ſecond place, experience,
which relates only to the aftions of 'the pars
ticular bodies we are acquainted with, ican-
not aid us to diſcover pd wer in any body,
that we have not formerly ſeen in ation.
Let, from the very firſt operation of ſui a
body, we have the perception of cauſ ind
effect, uch therefore cannot be fronpex+
perienec And, in the laſt place, 'asexperis |
ence in no caſe reaches to futtricy, our dea
of power, did it depend upon experience;
could only look backward: with fegard to
every new production, depending upon cauſ-
es even the moſt familiar, we ſhould; be ut-
terly at a 2 m _ I... 079
itte rides
Er. Ane ark dar our ien or
power is not derived, /either from reaſon or
experienee, we ſhall-endeavour to trace out
the true foundation of this idea. Running
over the ſubject, the following thoughts oc-
20 cur
258 IDEA'OF P'O WER:
eur,” which I' ſhall ſet before the reader, in
their natural order. As man, in his life and
actions, is neceſſarily connected, both with
the animate and inanimate world; he would
be viterly at a loſs to conduct himſelf, with-
out ſome acquaintance with the beings a.
round him, and their operations. His ex-
ternal ſenſes give him all the intelligence that
is mukſſary; not only for being, but for well-
being They diſcover to him, in the firſt
thisyrould not be ſufficient, unleſs they alſo
diſcovered to him their powers and operati-
ons. The ſenſe of ſeeing is the principal
means of his intelligence. I have explained;
in a former eſſay, that: peculiar manner of
perception, by which we diſcover the exiſt-
ence of external objects. And when theſe
are put in motion, whereby certain things
follow, tis by another peculiar manner of
Perception, that we diſcover a relation be-
twixt certain objects, which makes one be
termed the cauſe, the other the effect. I
need ſcarce repeat again, that there is bo ex-
129 plaining
IDEA OF POWER: 279
plaining ſimple feelings and perceptions, o-
therways than by ſuggeſting the terms which
genote them. All that can be done in this
caſe, is to requeſt of the reader, to attend to
what paſſes in his mind, when he ſees. ong
billiard ball ſtruck againſt another, or a tree,
which the wind is blowing down, or a ſtone
thrown. into the air out of one's hand. We
are obviouſly ſo conſtituted, as not only to
perceive the one body: ating, and excrting
its power; but alſo to perceive, that the change
in the other body is produced by means of
that action or exertion of power. This
change we perceive to be an efe&; and we.
perceive a neceſſary connection betwixt the
action and the effect, ſo as that the one muſt.
oi_ follow * he 305 leg
; * 1 93 3 in a 28 885
by the eye, ſa I diſcoyer power in my mind,
by an internal ſenſe. By one act of the will,
ideas are raiſed. By another act of the will,
my limbs are put in motion. Attending to
theſe operations, I perceive. or feel the mo-
tion
— —— =- : — — —
—— —
- 2 *
——— 5 — —
——
— * — —
py
r — > —
—— -
* * # 7 . — ry . - mY * -
—ů ended ICE re inn lee Ce ED, DEER — — — — 2
—
a& IDEAOF POWER
ton of the limbs, and the entry of the ide -
41% tO f, : neceſſarily from the a of the
will. In other words; I petceive or feel tlieſe
to bo:effeRs, and the act of ls be the
_—_ rf £15607 ns 30 ni 2: eo zd
„Aun * chis: Feeling is involved 3 in the
very perception of the aRion, without taking
in either reaſon or experience, may be illuſ-
ted by ſome plain obſervations. There is
no relation more familiar, even to children,
than that of cauſe and effect. The firſt time
2 child lifts a bit of bread, the perception
ir has of this action, not only includes a con-
junction of the band with the bread, and
that the motion of the latter follows the
motion of the former; but it like ways in-
cludes that peculiar modification, which is
expreſt-by a power in the hand to lift the
. bread. .: Accordingly,” we find no expreſſion
more familiar among infants and ruſticks, nor
better underltood than I can do this, I can
dothat. Further, as things are beſt illuſtrated
ee contraries, let us put che eaſe of a
{O13 * being
IDEA OF POWER. 281
being, if there is ſuch a one, who, in view-
ing external objects, has no idea of ſubſtance,
but only of qualities; and who, in viewing
motion, does not feel the change produced
by it, to be an effect, or any way connected
with the motion, further than as following
it in point of time. It appears extremely e-
vident, that this ſuppoſed being can never
have the idea of body, or of its powers. Rea-
ſon or experience can never give it the idea
of body or ſubſtance, and far leſs of their
powers.
Ir is very true, we cannot diſcover power
in any object, as we diſcover the object itſelf,
merely by intuition. But the moment an alte-
ration is produced by any object, we perceive
that the object has a power to produce that
alteration ; which leads to denominate the
one a cauſe, and the other an effect. I don't
aſſert that we can never be in a miſtake about
this matter. Children often err, by attri-
duting an effect to one cauſe inſtead of ano-
ther, or by conſidering that to be 'a cauſe,
| Nu which
—
252 IDEAOF POWER.
which is not. Miſtakes of this kind are cor-
rected by expeflence. But they prove the
reality of the perception of power, juſt as
much as where our perceptions are agree -
able to the truth of —
Ax with regard to the fallibility of the
ſenſe of ſeeing, when it points out to us cau-
ſes and effects, the compariſon may be juſt-
J inſtituted, betwixt it and belief. The fa-
culty which regulates belief is not infallible,
It ſometimes leads us into errors. Nei-
ther is the faculty infallible, by which we
"diſcern one thing to be a cauſe, another
to be an effect. Yet both are exerted with
' ſufficient certainty, to guide us through life,
without many capital errors. wy
"us author of *% treatiſe & human na-
ture, has employed a world of reaſoning, in
fearching for the foundation of our idea of
power and of neceſſary connection. And,
after all his anxious reſearches, he can make
no more of it, but 1 * That the idea of ne-
« ceſſary
IDEA OF POWER. 283
« ceſſary connection, alias power or energy,
« ariſes from a number of inſtances, of one
« thing. always following another, which
connects them in the imagination; where»
6 by we can readily forctel the exiſtence of
« the one from the appearance of the o-
66 ther. „And he pronounces, That this
« connection can never be ſuggeſted from
« any one of theſe inſtances, ſurveyed 1 in all
« poſſible lights and poſitions *. Thus
he places the eſſence o neceſſary connecti-
on, or power, upon that propenlity, which
cuſtom, Produces, to paſs from an object to
the idea of its uſual attendant. And from
theſe premiſes, he draws. a concluſion - a
very extraordinary nature, and which he him-
ſelf acknowledges to be not a little paradox-
ical. His words are: 6 Upon the whale,
6 « neceſſity i is ſomething that exiſts in the
6 mind, not in objects 3 nor 1s it poſſible
6 for us even, to form the molt diſtant idea
« of it ; conſidered a8 4 quality in bodies. Tha
6 efficacy or energy in cauſes, is neither
a "oo
* Philoſophical efſas, eff. 5.
1
|
> — —— 2293 > — 2
CIS => — 4 — — = IX 2
— - - — — —— --
- — — — —— — — T2
224 IDEA OF POWER,
placed in the cauſes themſelves, nor in the
«Deity, nor in the concurrence of theſe
64. two principles; but belongs entirely to
ten the ſoul, which conſiders the union of two
ot more objects in all paſt inſtances. 'Tis
« here that the real power of cauſes is plac-
«cd, along with their connection and ne-
An py wa #4 2
Hu; may well admit this doctrine to be a
violent paradox, becauſe, in reality, it con-
tradicts our natural feelings, and wages war
with the common ſenſe of mankind. We
cannot put this in a ſtronger light than our
author himſelf does, in forming an objecti-
on againſt his own doctrine. What! the
efficacy of cauſes ly in the determination of
the mind! as if cauſes did not operate en-
« tirely independent of the mind, and would
« not continue their operation, even tho'
there was no mind exiſtent to contemplate
7 them, or IT FTC ING them, Wn,
OLI L. Nn
| * of human nature, vol. I, pag.'290, 290.
Tora or POWER! 285
64 g to reverſe the order of nature! and to
« make that ſecondary which is really pri-
«mary. To every operation there is a pow-
«er pre rtioned; and thĩs power muſt be
placed on the body that operates. If we
remove the power from one cauſe, we |
&« mult aſcribe it to another. But to remove
« jt from all cauſes, and beſtow it on a being
« that is noways related to the cauſe, or effect,
60 but by perceiving them, i isa groſs abſurdi-
0 and contrary to the moſt certain princi-
« ples of Human reaſon F.” In ſhort, no-
thing is more clear, than that, from the ve-
ry ſight of bodies in motion, we have the
Idea of power, which connects them toge-
ther, in the relation of cauſe and Nek. This
power is perceived as a quality in the acting
body, and by no means is an operation of
the mind, or an eaſy tranſition of thought
from one object to another. And there-
fore, flatly to deny our perception of ſuch a
quality in þodies, as our author does, is tak-
ing upon him to contradict a plain matter of
+ Fag. 294.
„
286 IDEA OF TONER.
faQ, of which all the word can give teſtimq-
ny. He may be at a loſs, indeed, to diſcover
the Pures of this perception, becauſe he can
neither derive it, por the idea of ſubſtance,
— his own principles. But it has been
mpre than once obſerved, that it is too bold,
to deny a fact, ſupported by the, | beſt evi;
dence,, merely becauſe one is at a loſs. to dif:
Cover the cauſe. At the fame time, \ there i is
no manner of difficulty, to lay open the
foundation of 1 theſe, perceptions. Both of
them e 5 Me as, is. clearly
made out above, 4:
e g Tis
-
* to how, that our 2utboy + account
of this matter comes far ſhort of truth, it
will be lain from one or two inſtances,
that tho a conſtant connection of t two ob-
jects, may, by habit or cuſtom, produee a a ſi-
milar connection in the imagination ; yet
that a conſtant connection, whether i in the
imagination, or betwixt the objechs them;
ſelves, does by no means come up, to our
idea of power. Far from it. In a gar-
_ lon,
Oe
*
*
%
*.
"a
IDEA OF POWER.
ibn. the ſoldiers conſtantly turn out at a
hain beat of the drum. The gates of the
town are opened and ſhut regularly, as the
clock points at à certain hour. Theſe facts
are obſerved by a child, grow up with him,
and turn habitual during a long life.” In this
inſtance, there is a conſtant connection be-
twixt objects, which is attended with a ſimi-
lar connection in the imagination: yet the
perſon above ſuppoſed; if not a changeling,
never imagined, the beat of the drum to be
the cauſe of the motion of the ſoldiers ; nor
the pointing of the clock to a certain 1
to be the cauſe of the opening or ſhutting of
the gates. He perceives the cauſe of theſe o-
perations to be very different; and is not led
into any miſtake by the above circumſtances,
however cloſely connected. Let us put ano-
ther inſtance ſtill more appoſite. Such is the
human conſtitution, that we act neceſſarily,
upon the exiſtence of certain perceptions or
motives. The proſpect of victuals makes a
hungry man accelerate his pace. Reſpect to
an antient family moves him to take a wife.
An
P |
as
7 #7 >
IDEA OF POWER,
„An object of diſtreſs prompts him to lay
out his money, or venture his perſon. Vet
no man dreams a motive to be the cauſe of
action; ; tho}, if the doctrine of neceſſity hold
true, here i is not only a conſtant, but a ne-
1 connection 5.
F. R ou che kh laſt given, it appears.
har conſtant connection, and the other cir-
cumſtances mentioned by our author, are
far from coming up to our idea. of power.
| There
*A . idea, tis brio, amd the cauſe
of action; cannot, of iſe, produce motion. After what
. monier then does it operate? I-explain the matter thus:
- The power of magnetiſm, - or any other particular power in
matter, by which the body endued with the power is im-
pelled towards other bodies, cannot operate, if there is no
other body placed within its Sphere of activity. hut placing
anqther body there, the magnetic body is directly impelled
towards this new body. Yet the new body is not the cau/+
of tlie motion, but only the occaſon of it; the condition of
the: power being ſuch, that the body endued with it cannot
operate, but with relation to another body, within its ſphere
of a@ion:'/ Pteciſely, in the fame manner, does the mind
act, upon; preſenting of a thought or idea. The idea is not
the. cay/e of the action, but only the occaſion of it. It is
” the mind which exerts the action; only tis fo framed, that
it cannot exert its powers, otherways than upon the preſent ·
ing of certain perceptions to it.
ID EAOF POWER. 289
There may be even a neceſſary. connection
betwixt two objects, without putting them
in the relation of cauſe and effect, and with-
out involving a power in the one to produce
the other. Our author, then, attempts ra-
ther too bold an enterprize, when he un-
dertakes to argue mankind out of their ſen-
ſes and feelings. That we have ſuch a feel-
ing of power, as is above deſcribed, is a fact
that cannot admit of the ſmalleſt controver-
ſy. And all that is left him, would he ar-
gue with any proſpect of ſucceſs, is to queſ-
tion, whether this feeling does, in fact, cor-
reſpond to-the truth of things. But he will
not undertake ſo ftubborn a task, as to prove
this a deluſive feeling; when he muſt be ſen-
ſible of the wonderful harmony, that ſubſiſts
betwixt it and the reality of cauſes and their
effects. We have no reaſon to ſuſpect deceit
in this caſe, more than with regard to many
other ſenſes, ſome of which remain to be
unfolded, that are wrought into the conſti-
tution of man, for wiſe and good purpoſes,
| Oo and
2% IDEA OF POWER:
and without whieh, he would be bh m_ ir-
regular man
c Ann were it neveflary=to Fs more- W oben
à ſubject, which indeed merits the utmoſt
attention; we have, if I miſtake not, this
author's own evidence for us; which I
conſider” as no mean evidence in any caſe;
and which muſt- be held of the greateſt au-
thority, when given againſt himſelf: And
this evidence he gives in his philoſophical eſ-
ſays. For tho, in this work, he continues to
maintain © That neceſſity exiſts only in the
mind, not in objects, and that it is not
4 poſſible for us even to form the moſt di-
4 ſtant idea of it, conſidered as a quality in
« bodies; ” yet, in the courſe of the argu-
ment, he more than once diſcovers, that he
himſelf is poſſeſſed of an idea of power, con-
ſidered as 2 quality in bodies, tho“ he has
not attended to it. Thus he obſerves ,
“That nature conceals from us, thoſe pow-
« ers and * on which the inffu-
* 2 cc © ence
London edition, pag. 58.
IDEA OF P O WE R. 291
* ence of objects entirely depends.” And
of theſe powers and principles, he gives ſeve-
ral apt inſtances, ſuch as a power or quality
in bread to nouriſh; 2 power by which bo-
dies perſerete f in motion. This j is not only
owning an idea of power as a quality i in bo-
dies, but alſo owning the reality of this
power. In another paſſage , he obſerves,
« 1 hat the particular powers, by which all
te natural operations are performed, never ap-
« pear to the ſenſes; and. « that experi-
« ence does not lead us to the knowledge
« of-the ſecret power by which one object
% produces another,” What leads us to the
knowledge of this ſecret power, is not at
preſent. the queſtion, But here is the au-
thor's own acknowledgment, that he has an
idea of a power in one object to produce a-
nother; for he certainly will not ſay, that he
is here making uſe of words, without having
any ideas annexed to them. In one paſſage
in particular *, he talks diſtinctly and expli-
citly of A power in one object, by which
6c it
| + Pag. 72. * Pag. 121. e 8
4
292 IDEA OF POWER:
« it infallibly produces the other, andoperates
© with the greateſt certainty and ſtrongeſt
4 neceſſity.” No maſter of language can give
2/deſcription of power, conſidered as 2 qua-
lity.in bodies, in more apt or more exprel-
Live terms. So difficult it is to ſtifle, or to
e natural N and arg aan .
5 9 * the (dlegeing arguments have not pre-
mailed,” may not the following argument
. hope for ſucceſs? Figure the ſimpleſt of all
. caſes ; ; a man riſing from his ſeat, to walk
through the room; and try to analyſe the
perception of this ſimple event. In the firſt
place, is the man active or paſſive? Is he
moved, or does he move himſelf? No mor-
tal is at a loſs to underſtand theſe queſtions ;
and no mortal is at a loſs to anſwer them.
We have a diſtin@ perception or feeling, that
the man is not moved, but moves; or, which
Is the ſame, moves himſelf. Let us exa-
mine, in the next place, what is involved in
the perception or feeling we have, when we
8 . ſee
„ ® Natyram aha fre habe ren |
IDEAOF POWER. 293
ſee this man walking. Do we not ſay fami-
liarly, does not a child ſay, that he can walk?
And what other thing do we mean by this
expreſſion, than that he has a power to walk?
Does not the very idea of walking include
in it a power to walk? In' this inſtance, our
author, unhappily for his argument, has nei-
ther contiguity nor ſucceſſion to recur to,
for explaining his idea of power, imperfe&
as it is. And therefore, with regard to this
inſtance, he muſt either admit, that we have
an idea of power, conſidered as a quality in
objects, or take upon him to deny, that we
have any idea of power at all: for it is evi-
dent, that the idea of power, when it com-
prehends only a ſingle object, can never be
reſolved into a connection in the imaginati-
on, betwixt two or more objects. We have
thus the feeling of power from every action,
be it of the ſimpleſt kind that can be figur-
ed. And having once acquired the idea of
power exerted by an animal, to put itſelf in
motion, we readily transfer that idea to the
actions of bodies, animate and inanimate, up-
TY * On
294 IDEA OF POWER.
on each other. And, after all, with due re-
gard to an author of very acute parts, 1
cannot help obſerving, that there is, Per-
haps, not one idea of all the train, which. is
more familiar to us, or more univerſal, than
the idea of power. b a6 n
Hs
kt oy thus py SHS the 2 of
our idea of power, as a quality in bodies,
and traced it to ĩts proper ſource, I ſhall cloſe
this eſſay with ſome obſervations upon cauſ-
es and their effects. That we cannot diſco-
ver power in any object, other ways than by
ſeeing it exert its power, is above obſerved.
Therefore, we can never diſcoyer any ob-
jet to be a cauſe, otherways than by the
effect produeed. But with regard to things
cauſed or produced, the cale is very diffe-
rent. For we. can diſcover an object to be
an eſſect, after the cauſe is removed, or when
it is not at all ſeen. For inſtance, no one
is at 2 loſs to ſay, that a table or a chair is
an effe&t produced. A child will ask, who
made it? We 'perceive every event, every
new
3
IDEA OF POWER. 295
new object, to be an effect or production, the
very conception of which involves the idea of
2 cauſe. Hence the maxim, That nothing
can fall out, nothing begin to exiſt, without
« 2 cauſe;” in other words, That every thing
* which begins to exiſt muſt have a cauſe: a
maxim univerſally recogniſed, and admitted
by all mankind as ſelf-evident, Nor can
this be attributed to experience. The feel-
ing is original, regarding ſingular objects
and events, the cauſes of which are utterly
unknown, not leſs than objects and events,
which depend upon familiar cauſes. Chil-
dren and ruſticks are conſcious of this feel-
ing, equally with thoſe who have the moſt
conſummate experience of nature, and its
— A.
FURTHER, the perception we have of a-
ny object, as an effect, includes in it the feel-
ing of a cauſe proportioned to the effect. If
the object be an effect properly adapted to
ſome end, the perception of it neceſſarily in ·
cludes
* See the eſſay upon liberty and neceſſity, pag. 88.
——
296 IDEAOF POWER
cludes an intelligent deſigning cauſe. If the
effect be ſome good end brought about by
proper means, the perception neceſſarily in-
cludes a deſigning and benevolent cauſe,
Nor is it in our power, by any. ſort of con-
ſtraint, to vary theſe feelings, or to give
them a different modification from what they
have by nature. It may be in our power to
conceive, but it is not in our power to believe,
that a fine piece of painting, a well wrote
poem, or a beautiful piece of architecture,
can ever be the effe& of chance, or of blind
fatality. The ſuppoſition, indeed, ſo far as
we can diſcover, does not involve any incon-
ſiſtency in the nature of things. It may be
poſſible, for any reaſon we have to the con-
trary, that a blind and undeſigning cauſe
may be productive of excellent effects. But
our ſenſes diſcover, what reaſon does not,
that every object, which appears beautiful as
ddapted to an end or purpoſe, is the effect of
a deſigning cauſe; and that every object,
which appears beautiful as fitted to a good
end or an is the effect of a deſigning
cauſe;
IDEA OF POWER. 27
cauſe; and that every object, which ap-
pears beautiful as fitted to a good end or
purpoſe, is the effect of a deſigning and
benevolent cauſe. We are ſo conſtituted,
that we can entertain no doubt of this, if
we would. And, ſo far as we gather from
experience, we are not deceiv'd.
Pp ESSAY
1
-_ » .
.
=
_— *
*
* 1
* . zi;
N
F -
_ 8 n
FP ”
=
*
*
„
: -
—
»
1
%
-
5
4
*
,
>
.
*
=
* *
91
*
„
*
.
1
.
Z
”
” * JF .
*
* 4 F
#
* 3 ”
—
a I
* -
-
-
-
15
ss 4 v V.
Of our KnowLzDes of FUTURE
EVENTS.
HILE we are tied to this *
ſome knowledge of the beings around
us, ad of their operations, is neceſſary ;
becauſe, without it, we ſhould be utterly at
a loſs how to conduct ourſelves. © This ſub-
ject is bandled in two former eſſays. But
were our knowledge limited to this ſubjeR,
it would not be ſufficient for our well-be-
ing, and ſcarce for our preſervation. It is
likeways neceſſary, that we have ſome know-
ledge of future events; for about theſe we
are moſtly employed. A man will not ſow,
if he has not a proſpect of reaping: he will
not build a houſe; if he has not ſome ſecuri-
ty, chat it will ſtand firm for years. Man is
poſſeſt of this valuable branch of know
ledge: he can foretel future events. There
is no doubt of the fact. The difficulty on-
ly is, what are the means employed in mak-
ing
|
|
|
1
i
|
1
|
300 KNOWLEDGEOPF
ing the diſcovery. It is, indeed, an eſtabliſh-
ed maxim, that the courſe of nature con-
tinues uniformly the ſame ; and that things
will be as they have been. But, from what
premiſes we draw this concluſion, is not ob-
vious.. Uniformity in the operations of na-
ture, with regard to time paſt, 1 is diſcovered
by experience. But of future time, having
no experience, the maxim aſſuredly cannot
be derived from that ſource. Neither will
reaſon. help us out. It is true, the produc-
tion of one thing by another, even in a ſingle
inſtance, implies a power; and this power
s neceſſarily connected with its effe&. But
as power is an internal property, not diſcov-
erable but by the effects produced, we can
never, by any chain of reaſoning, conclude,
power to be in any body, except in the in-
{tant of operation. The power, for ought
we know, may be at an end from that very
inſtant. We cannot ſo much as conclude,
from any deduction of reaſon, that this
earth, the ſun, or any one being, will cxiſt
to-morrow, And, ſuppoſing their future ex-
| iſtence
*
FUTURE EVENTS. 30
iſtence to be diſcoverable by reaſon, we are
not ſo much acquainted with the nature or
eſſence of any one thing, as to diſcover 2
neceſſary connection betwixt it and its pow-
ers, that the one ſubſiſting, the other muſt
alſo ſubſiſt. There is nothing ſo eaſy to con-
ceive, as that che moſt active being, ſhall at
at once be deprived of all its activity: and a
thing that may be conceived, can never be
proved inconſiſtent or impoſſible. An ap-
peal to paſt experience, will not carry us
through. The ſun has afforded us light and
heat from the beginning of the world. But
what reaſon have we to conclude, that its
power of giving light and heat muſt conti-
nue; when it is as eaſy to conceive powers
to be limited in point of time, as to con-
cecive them perpetual? If to help us out
here, we have recourſe to the wiſdom and
goodneſs of a Supreme Being, as eſtabliſhing
permanent general laws; the difficulty is,
that we have no Data, from whence to
conclude, in the way of reaſoning, that theſe
general laws muſt continue fnvariably the
| fame
* KNOWLEDGE OF
| fime without endl It i 18 true, the concluſi·
on is actually made, but it muſt be referred
to ſome other ſource. For reaſoning will
not aid us, more than experience does, to
draw any one concluſion, from paſt to fu-
rife events. It is certain, at the fame time;
that the uniformity of nature's operations,
is a maxim admitted by all mankind. Tho
altogether unaſliſted either by reaſon or ex-
perienee, we never have the leaſt heſitatioon
to conclude, that things will be as they have
been; in ſb much that we truſt our lives
and fortunes upon this concluſion. I ſhall
endeavour to trace out the ptineiple, upon
which this important concluſion is founded.
And this ſubject will afford, tis hoped, 4
freſh inſtance of the admirable correſpond
enee, which is diſcovered betwixtthenature of
man, and his external circumſtances. ' What
is already made out, will lead us directly to
our point. If our conviction of the unifor-
mity of nature, is not founded upon reaſon
nor experience, it ean have no other foun-
dation but ſenſe and feeling. The fact tru-
CEL N ly
FUTURE EVENTS. 303
ly is, that we are ſo conſtituted, as, by a ne-
ceſſary determination of nature, to transfer
our paſt experience to futurity, and to have
a direct perception or feeling of the conſtan-
cy and uniformity of nature. This percep-
tion or feeling muſt belong to an internal
ſenſe, becauſe it evidently has no relation to
any of our external ſenſes. And an argument,
which has been more than once ſtated in the
foregoing eſſays, will be found deciſive up-
on this point. Let us ſuppoſe a being, which
has no perception or notion of the unifor-
mity of nature: ſuch a being will never be
able to transfer its paſt experience to futuri-
ty. Every event, however conformable to
paſt experience, will come equally unexpect-
to us; tho' "poſſibly withane the ſame ſur-
priſe, | |
TREVOR 22 i CI (94450824, Rift
_ Tais ſenſe of conſtancy and uniformity
in the works of nature, is not confined to
the ſubject above handled, but diſplays it»
ſelf, b. upon many other objects,
We
30% KNOWLEDOE OT
We have a conwiction of a common nature
in beings, which are ſimilar in their appear-
ances. We expect a likeneſs in their conſti-
tuent parts, in their appetites, and in their
conduct. We not only lay our account with
uniformity of behaviour, in the fame indivi-
dual, ' but in all the individuals of the ſame
ſpecies. This principle has ſuch influence,
as even to make us hope for conſtancy and
uniformity, where experience would lead us
to the oppolite concluſion. The rich man
never thinks of poverty, nor the diſtreſſed
of relief. Even in this variable climate, we
cannot Teadily bring ourſelves to believe,
that good or bad weather will have an end.
Nay, it governs our notions in law-matters,
and is the foundation of the maxim, «© That
« alteration or change of circumſtances is
© not to be preſumed.” Influenced by the
ſame principle, every man acquires a certain
uniformity of manner, which fpreads itſelf
upon his thoughts, words and actions. In
our younger years, the effe& of this princi-
1 is leſs remarkable, being oppoſed by a
ä variety
815 „*
FUTURE EVENTS. 305
variety of. paſſions, which, as they have dif-
ferent, and ſometimes oppoſite tendencies;
occaſion a fluctuation in our conduct. But?
ſo ſoon as the heat of youth is over, this
principle, acting without counter- balance,
ſeldom fails to bring on a punctual regulari-
ty in our way of living, which is extremely
remarkable in moſt old people.
ANALOGY is one of the moſt common
ſources of reaſoning ; the force of which is
univerſally admitted. The conviction of e-
very argument founded on analogy, ariſes
from this very ſenſe of uniformity. Things
ſimilar, in ſome particulars, are preſumed to
be ſimilar i in every N
In a word, as the bulk of our views and
actions have a future aim, ſome knowledge
of future events is neceſſary, that we may a-
dapt our views and actions to natural events.
To this end, the Author of our nature has
done two things. He has eſtabliſhed a con-
ſtancy and uniformity in the operations of
Q q nature.
*
1
3 P 7
— * . *
66 RNOWLED GE. OF, &:
* 1 ” 4 1 5 9 7 .
he has impreſſed
*
nature. has imp upon our
1 ' _—_ | {> " p 1 . ,
9 ' We . . =
a conviction or et o s conſtan-
: | 4
Y * * 8
—_ 9 4 9 Y
, N g |
a P 4 5 5
. . p
* *
> „ * o : * 1
* 1 » of ” .
, * * a k
* * , 1 4
» 9 - n
* „ v5 *
5 wh - © *
- . * 9 7
« #
#4 wy
* 5 . a
" j
9 by *
*
j - 8 - 19 -
* 4% $1 — of * - „ A * 4 , > — ”
/
.
8 a * 4
: - py 4 * %
* 4 - * * * 9 * 2 0 * # . 2
* 4 5 a *
y o
. „
. * o * - * * . *
* * *# %
” - * 9 *
N s
— py — 1 * — „ .
— # - 4 . - & * 0 - * 4 : „
- 11 * by o
P . - |
E }-#* 1 ” *
cy P , —
.
DLL 44 mY
g : y 4
7 : _— . uo ” 3 4
* 42 A * * x 4 6 E
. © » * ®
% £ y : 4
* - A -
So
© * ** „ . *
— 4 — 0 *
1 8
mN » .
* N n
* * 4 = 9 # A © » ” * y
- * — . * . 1 % . 4 4
4 , * * .
- . 9 - *
F * 0 — y o
- * A *
o . 4 , * ®
g .
4 .
x 1 .
—_ ”
. . = - = -
\
* „ » 1 - 21
: 5 4
„
*
| S8
1 . . . ©
* 1 . .
* *: ad » - «
*
„0
4 i .
A |
—
A ο ap
E 8 8 8 A Y Cy
| Of our DxzaD of Siren dat on i
HPoWERs in abe DARK.
Fa *
20
VERY flight view of human nature is
ſufficient to convince us, that we were
not dropt here by accident. This earth is
fitted for man, and man is fitted for inhabit-
ing this earth. By means of inſtinctive fa-
culties, we have an intuitive knowledge of the
things that ſurround us; at leaſt of ſuch
things by which we may be affected. We can
diſcover objects at a diſtance. We diſcern
them in their connection of cauſe and effect;
and their future operations are laid open, as
well as their preſent. But in this grand ap-
paratus of inſtinctive faculties, by which the
ſecrets of nature are diſcloſed to us, one fa-
culty ſeems to be with-held ; tho' in appear-
ance the moſt uſeful of all ; and that is, /a
faculty to diſcern, what things are noxious,
and what. are friendly. The moſt poiſon-
ous s fruits have ſometimes the fairelt colours ;
and
393 DREAD OF SUPERNATURAL
and the ſavage. animals partake of beauty
with the tame and harmleſs. And when
other particulars are inquir'd into, it will be
Found, by induction, that man has no origi-
nal feeling of what is 1 to mw and
Ages: 1 W **
1 is ane to e ink this infins |
| 15 with-held, when it appears to be the de-
ſign of nature, to furniſh us plentifully with
inſtincts, for the diſcovery of uſeful truths.
With regard to this matter, it is too bold an
undertaking for man to dive into all the ſecrets
of his maker. We ought to reſt contented
with the numerous inſtances we have of
good order and good purpoſe, which muſt
afford us a rational conviction, that good or-
der and good purpoſe: take plaee univerſal-
ly. At the ſame. time, a rational account
may be ſuggeſted of this matter. We have
a conviction, that there is nothing redun-
dant or ſuperfſuous in the operations of na-
ture. Different means are never afforded us
to bring about the ſame end. Experience,
ſo
1+ POWERS IN THE Dakk. 30g
ſo far as it can go, is given us for acquiring
knowledge; and inſtin& only, where expe-
rience cannot aid us. is true, inſtinct is a
more compendious way of diſcovering uſe-
ful truths. But man was intended an active
being, and therefore left to his own induſtry,
as. much as poſlible.
Max then is placed in this world, amidſt a
great variety of objects, the nature and ten-
dency of which are unknown to him, other-
ways than by experience. In this ſituation,
he would be in perpetual danger, had he not
ſome faithful monitor, to keep him conſtant-
ly upon the watch againſt harm. This ma-
nitor is the propenſity he has to be afraid of
new objects; ſuch eſpecially which have no
peculiar beauty to raiſe his deſire. A child,
to whom all nature is ſtrange, dreads the ap-
proach of every object; and even the face
of man is frightful to it. The ſame timidity
and ſufpicion may be obſerved in travellers,
who converſe with ſtrangers, and meet with
unknown appearances. Upon the firſt ſight of
an
310 DREAD! OF OF 'SUPERNATURAL
an herb or fruit, we apprehend the worſt, and
ſaſpettir to be noxious. An unknown ani-
mal is immediately conceived to be dange-
rons, The more rare phænomena of na-
ture, the cauſes of which are unknown to
the vulgar, never fail to ſtrike them with
terror. From this induction, it is clear, that
we dread unknown objects. They are al-
ways ſurveyed with an emotion of fear, till
| hs ogy diſcovers ad to be Jon oat
Turs dread of ene objeats, f is fops
poſed to enter into the conſtitution of all ſen-
fitive beings, but is moſt remarkable in the
weak and defenceleſs, The more feeble and
delicate the creature is, the more ſhy and ti-
morous it is obſerved to be. No creature i
by nature, more feeble and delicate —
man; and this principle is to him of admir-
able uſe, to keep him conſtantly upon his
guard, and to balance the principle of curi-
ofity, which is prevalent in man above all o-
cher creatures, and which, left to itſelf, would
often betray him into fatal accidents.
80 Tux.
POWER IN THE DARK. 311
Tur dread of unknown objects is apt to
fire the imagination, ſo as to magnify their
ſuppoſed evil qualities and iendencies. For
it is a well known truth, that paſſion has a
. wonderful effect upon the imagination. The
leſs we know of a new object, the greater N-
berty we take, to dreſs it up in frightful co-
lours. The object is forthwith conceived
to have all thoſe dreadful qualities, which are
ſuggeſted by the imagination; and the ſame
terror is raiſed, as if thoſe qualities were e real
aan ie el
AGAIN, adi the new 1 en
objects have any thing dreadful in appear-
ance, this circumſtance, joined with our na-
tural: propenſity to dread unknown objects,
will raiſe terror even in the moſt: refolute; If
the evils, dreaded from ſuch objects, are
known'neither in quality nor degree; the i-
magination, being under no reſtraint, figures
the greateſt evils, both in kind and magni-
tude, that can be conceived. Where no im-
mediate harm enſues, the mind, by the im-
*
® Sce eſſay upon belief,
312 DREAD OF SUPERNATURAL
pulſe it has received, tranſports ĩtſelf into fu-
turity, and imagines the ſtrange forms to be
preſages of direful calamities. Hence it is,
that the uncommon phznomena of nature;
ſuch as comets, eclipſes, earthquakes, ind
the like, are, by the vulgar, held as forerun-
ners of uncommon events. Grand objects
make a deep impreſſion upon the mind, and
| give force to that paſſion which occupies it at
the time. The above appearances being un-
common, if not altogether new, diſpoſe the
mind to terror; which, aided by the emotion
ariſing from the grandeur of the objects,
produces great agitation, and a n. eppre⸗ |
Ren ww danger. ; |
_ _ Tre ſtrongeſt and moſt familiar inſtance
of our natural propenſity to dread unknown
objects, is the fear that ſeizes many young
perſons in the dark; which is a phænomenon
that has not been accounted for, with any de-
_ gree of ſatisfaction. Light diſpoſes the mind
to chearfulneſs and courage. Darkneſs, on
the contrary, depreſſes the mind, and diſpoſes
. it
_ - - POWERS IN THE DARK. 313
it to fear. Any object alarms the mind,
when it is already prepared by darkneſs, to
receive impreſſions of fear. The object, which,
in the dark, is ſeen but obſcurely, leaves the
heated imagination at full liberty, to beſtow
upon it the moſt dreadful appearance. This
phantom of the imagination, conceived as a
reality, unhinges the mind, and throws it
Into a fit of diſtraction. The imagination,
now heated to the higheſt degree, multiplies
the dreadful appearances to the utmoſt
bounds of its conception. The object be-
comes a ſpectre, a devil, a hobgoblin, ſome-
thing more terrible than ever was ſeen or
deſcribed. 5
A VERY few accidents of this kind, having
ſo powerful an effect, are ſufficient to intro-
duce an aſſociation between darkneſs and
malignant powers. And when once this aſſo-
ciation is formed, there is no occaſion for
the appearance of an object to create terror.
Frightful ideas croud into the mind, and aug-
ment the fear, which is occaſioned by dark-
neſs. The imagination becomes ungovern-
Rr . able,
314 DREAD OF SUPERNATURAL
able, and converts theſe ideas into real ap-
eri nein
. THAT the terror occaſioned by darkneſs,
is entirely owing to the operations of the i-
magination, will be evident from a ſingle re-
flection, that in company no ſuch eſſect ĩs
. A companion can afford no ſe-
_ curity againſt ſupernatural powers, But a
companion has the lame effect with ſun-
ſhine, to chear the mind, and preſerve it
from gloomineſs and deſpondency. The ir
magination is thereby kept within bounds,
and under due ſubjection to ſenſe and reaſon.
ft
wa
wa (
ö *
a n 7 TS * 14
4 Lid 4 !
| 8
— #* 1
8 ESSAY
- —
” - mb — * «- « þ \ *
' 4 \ | |;
127 1 1 9 2 ;
ESSAY, VII.
2 K ow DoE of the ITESS
H E arguments a Seniors for the exiſt.
ence and attributes of the Deity, are
urged, with the greateſt ſhew of reaſon, in
the ſermons. preached at Boyle's lectures.
But the ſermons upon this ſubject, tho they
command my ſtricteſt attention, never have
gained my heart. On the contrary, they al-
of which I have been ata loſs to diſcover, tho
now I imagine I can explain it. Such deep me-
taphyſical reaſoning, if it afford any convicti-
on, is ſurely not adapted to the vulgar and illi-
terate. Is the knowledge of God, then, reſerv-
ed for perſons of great ſtudy and deep think-
ing? Isa vail thrown over the eyes of the reſt
of mankind? This thought always returned
upon me, and gave me pain. If there really
exiſts a being, who made, and who governs
the world; and, if it be his purpoſe to diſ-
play himſelf to his rational creatures; it is
not
$ 5
ways give me a ſenſible uneaſineſs; the cauſe
316 O URKNOWLEDGE
not conſiſtent with any idea we can form of
the power and wiſdom of this being, that
his-purpoſe ſhould be defeated ; which plain-
ly ĩs che caſe, in a great meaſure, if he is on-
hy to be diſcovered, and but obſeurely, by a
very {mall part of mankind. At the ſame
time, to found our knowledge of the Dei-
ty ſolely upon reaſoning, is not agreeable to
the analogy of nature. We are not left to
gather our duty by abſtract reaſoning, nor
indeed by any reaſoning. It is engraved up-
on the table of our hearts. We adapt our
actions to the courſe of nature, by mere in-
ſtin&, without reaſoning, or even experience.
Therefore, if we can truſt to analogy, we
ought to expect, that God will diſcover him-
ſelf to us, in ſome ſuch manner, as may take
in all mankind, the vulgar and illiterate, as
well as nn _— PO
| Ar theſe abſiruſe ene nee are
reliſned by the learned and ſpeculative, tis
ſo far well. I cannot help acknowledging,
that they afford me no conviction, at kaſt,
.
7 OF THE'DEITY. 317
no ſolid and permanent conviction. We
know little about the nature of things, but
what we learn from a ſtrict attention to our
own nature. That nothing can begin to
exiſt without a cauſe, is ſufficiently evident
from ſenſe and feeling *. But that this can
be demonſtrated by any argument à priori,
drawn from the nature of things, I have not
obſerved +. And if demonſtration fail us
in the very outſetting, we cannot hope for
its aſſiſtance in the after ſteps. If any one
being can begin to exiſt without a cauſe, e-
very being may; upon which ſuppoſition,
we never can hope for a demonſtration, that
any one being muſt be eternal. But, if this
difficulty ſhall be ſurmounted, we have ano-
ther to ſtruggle with. Admitting that ſome-
thing has. exiſted from all eternity, I'find
no Data to determine à priori, whether this
world has exiſted of itſelf from all eternity,
in a conſtant ſucceſſion of cauſes and ef-
fects; or whether it be an effect produced
| 5
»gee the eſſay of our idea of power, towards the cloſe.
T See the ſame eſſay at the beginning.
*
318 OURRNOWLE DGE
by an Almighty Power. It is indeed hard
to conceisYe a world eternal and ſelf- exiſtent,
where all chings are carried on by blind fate,
without deſign or intelligence. And yet 1
can find no demonſtration to the contrary.
H we can form any obſcure notion of one
intelligent being, exiſting from all eternity, it
appears not more difficult to form a notion
of a ſucceſſion of beings, with or without
intelligence; or a notion of a perpetual ſuc-
n of cauſes and effects.
Ix ſhort, difficulties preſs both ways. But,
| theſe difficultics, when examined, do not a-
riſe from any inconſiſtency in our ideas.
T hey are occaſioned, merely, by the limit-
ed capacity of the mind of man. We can-
not comprehend an eternity of exiſtence.
It js too bulky an object. It eludes our
graſp. The mind is like the eye. It can-
not take i in an object that is very great or
very little. This, plainly is the ſource of
our di fficulties, when we attempt ſpeculati-
ons ſo remote from common apprehenſion.
Abſtract realoning _ ſuch a ſubject, muſt
lead
A Of THE DEI T . 319
lead into endleſs perplexities. It is indeed
leſs difficult to conceive one eternal un-
| changeable being who made the world, than
to conceive a blind chain of cauſes and cf
fects. At leaſt, we are diſpoſed to the for-
mer, as being more agreeable to the imagi-
nation, But as we cannot find any incon-
ſiſtency in the latter ſuppoſition, we cannot
juſtly hy l it is demonſtrably falſe.
* Grvs me leave to add, that a, out
ſuch abſtruſe and intricate ſpeculations into
any clear and perſuaſive light, is at any rate
ſcarce to be expected. And if, after the
utmoſt ſtraining, they remain obſeure and
vnaffecting, it is evident to me, that they
muſt have a bad tendency. Perſons of a
peeviſh and gloomy caſt of mind, finding
no conviction from that quarter, will be for-
tified in their propenſity to believe that all
things happen by blind chance; that there
is no wiſdom, ordet or harmony in the go-
vernment of this world; and ronloquentFp
that there 1 is no God.
Nine
320 OUR KNOWLEDGE
| BEING therefore little ſallligitous about ar-
| guments « a priori, for the exiſtence of a Deity,
which are not proportioned to the capacity
of man, I apply myſelf with zeal and chear-
fulneſs, to ſearch for the Deity in his works;
for by theſe we muſt diſcover him, if he
has thought proper to make himſelf known.
And the better to manage the i inquiry, I
ſhall endeavour to make out three propoſi-
"tions; 1f,, That if there is a being who i Is
the maker and governor of 'the world, it is
agrecable to any notions we, can form of his
government, that he ſhould make ſome diſ-
covery of himſelf to his intelligent creatures.
adh, That in fact he has done ſo. And
zah, That he has done ſo in a manner a-
greeable to the nature of man, and analo-
gous to his other operations, 25 I
Turkz certainly canndt be a more diſ-
couraging thought to man, than that the
world was formed by a fortuitous concourſe
of atoms, and that all things are carried on
by blind impulſe. Upon that ſuppoſition,
r *
-OF THE DEITY. © 227
he can have no ſecurity for his life; nor for
his continuing to be à moral agent and an
intelligent creature, even for à moment.
Things have been earried on witli regularity
and order. But chance may, in an inſtant,
throw all things into the moſt horrid and
diſmal confuſton. We can have no ſolid com-
fort in virtue, when it is 4 work of mere
chance; nor can we juſtify our reliance up-
on the falth df others, hen the nature of
mam feſts upon ſo precarious à foundation.”
Every thing muſt appar glootty; diſmal and
disjottited, without à Deity” ts unite this”
world of belbg& into one beautiful and Har-
motiious ſyſtem. © Theſe conſiderations; and
many more that will occur upon the firſt re-
flection, afford a very ſtrong conviction, if
there is a wiſe and 60d Being; who fibers” f
intends the affairs of this world, that he will
not conceal himſelf from kis rafibnal rea.
tures.” Can any thing be more * deſirable, or
mote ſubſtantially uſeful, than to know, that |
chere is a Being from whom nd ſecrets are
n to whom our good works are acceptable,
81 and
322: OURIRNOWLEDGE
and even the good purpoſes of our hearts;
and vhoſe government, directed by wiſdom
and benevolence; ought to make us reſt ſe-
cute; that: nothing docs or will fall out, but
according; ate good order? This ſentiment,
woted in the mind, is an antidote. to all
mündeten bent 317 Tf is is at beſt buys
edafalen and ane ur
"11 on if 9% 11592 1600
Ad Abit leads, 10 2 differcnt n
on, Which makes our knowledge of a bene-
volent Peity of the greateſt importance to
us.! Tho! natural and moral evil are far
from'prevailing in this world, yet fo much
of boch is ſcattered over the face of things,
as to create ſome degree of doubt, whether
there may not be a mixture of ehance, or of
ill-witl, inthe government of this world. But,
dance ſuppoſing the ſuperintendency of a good
being, theſe evils are no longer conſidered
as ſuch, A man reſtrains himſelf from un-
lawful pleaſures, tho the reſtraint gives him
pain. But then he dees not 'confider this
pain, as an evi] to;repine at. He ſubmits to
Bua 9 3
929
"OF THE'DEITY. zz
it voluntarily and with ſatisfaction, as one
does to grief for the loſs of a friend; being
conſcious that it is rigbt and ſit for him to
beſo affected. In the ſame manner, he ſub-
mits to all the evils of this life. Having con-
fidence in the good government of the De-
ky, he is perſuaded that every thing hap-
pens for the beſt, and therefore that it is
his duty to ſubmit to whatever happens.
This unfolds a ſcene ſo enlivening, and ſo
productive of chearfulneſs and good hu-
mour, that we cannot readily think, if there
is a benevolent Deity, that he will with-hold
from his creatures 19 unn A bleſſing...
ac bu 15 3000
MN, at che ſame time, by: his taſte for
beauty, regularity and order, is fitted for
contemplating the wiſdom and goodneſs diſ-
played in the frame and government of this
world. Theſe are proper objects of ad-
miration and joy, It is not agteeable to
the ordinary courſe of nature, that man
ſhould be endowed with an afſection, with,
out having a proper object to beſtow. it up-
"Hi OG aa On.
r . e
324 OUR KNOWLEDGE
on. And as the ptovidence of the Deity is
the higheſt abject of this afſection, it would
be — e en N r
* 71 | '
Tx als "1 I Fadmit; are 18 ann 6
PR believing; that, if there is a benevolent
Deity, it muſt be his intention to manifeſt
himſelf to his creatures: but they carry a ve-
ry high degree of probability, which leaves
little room for doubt. At the ſame time, tho
it ſnould be our fate, to ſearch in vain for
this object of our affedtion, we ought not
however to deſpair, atid, in that deſpair; to
conclude there is no God. Let us but re-
flect, that he has not manifeſted himſelf to
all his creatures. The brutes appatently
know nothing of him! And ſhould we be
diſappointed in this ſearch; the worlt we can
corichude; Is, that for good and wiſe purpoſ-
es, which we cannot dive into, he has
thought proper to with- hold himſelf alſo
from us. We certainly have no reaſon to
amen our ignorance into an argument
againſt
OF THE DEITY, © 325
againſt his exiſtence. Our ignorance brings
us only a ſtep lower, and puts us; ſo e
on a footing with the brute creation.
THE ſecond and important buche + our
diſquiſition, is, to aſcertain this fact, that
there is a Deity, and that be has manifeſted
himſelf to us, I requeſt only attention of
my reader, and not any unreaſonable s con-
ceſſion. In a former eſſay *, two propoſitions
are made out. The firſt is, that every ching
which has a beginning, i is perceived as a pro-
duction or Hell, which neceſſarily inyolves .
the idea of a cauſe. The ſecond, that, we
neceſſarily transfer to the cauſe, whatever of
contrivance or deſign is diſcovered in the ef-
fect. Conliderjng a houſe, garden, picture
or Name | in itſelf, it is perceived as beauti-
ful. If We attend to theſe objects in 2 diffe· |
rent view, As things haying a beginning, we.
perceive 4 to be effects, involving the is
dea of a cauſe. | It again we conſider them
as artfully, egptrived to anſwer certain pur-
poles, we Perceive. 1 them to be the workman⸗
ſhip
v Df our idea of power.
326 OUR KNOWLEDGE
ftp of ſome perſon of skill. Nor are we
deceived in theſe pereeptions. Upon exami-
nation, we find, that they 2 5 to rutly
Tarr N
Box not only are theſe ic objees perceived
& effects, which we afterwards learn, from
experience, to be the production of man.
Natural objects, fuch as plants and animals,
48 well as all other objects which once were
not, are alſo perceived as effects, or as the
production of ſome cauſe. The queſtion
Will always recur, how came it here? who
made * what is iy exuſe wh its exiſtence?
1 ot iD "4 44.34 $3444 4 ot e 1 * * 1
Wü are blaſted 6 buthai arts, that
every work of defign and uſe will be attri-
buted to man. But what if it exceed his
known powers and faculties? This ſuppoſi-
tion does not alter the nature of our feel-
ings; but only leads us to a different cauſe,
and, in place of man, to determine upon
ſome ſuperior power. If the object be con-
| ſidered as an — neceſſarily involves the
(jb 3 idea
idea of a cauſe. And the cauſe cannot be
man, i if the object of our perception be an
effect far ſurpaſſing the power of man. This
train of thinking leads us directly to our
point. - Attend but to the anatomy of the
meanelt plant: ſo much of art and of curt-
ous mechaniſm, is. diſcovered. in it, that it
muſt be the production of ſome cauſe, far
ſurpaſſing the power and intelligence of man.
The ſcene opens more and more, when, paſ-,
ſing from plants to animals, we come to man,
the moſt wonderful of all the works of na-
ture. And when, at laſt, we take in, at one
view, the natural and moral world, full of
harmony, order and beauty; happily ad-
juſted in all its parts to anſwer great and glo-
rious purpoſes; there is, in this grand pro:
duction, neceſſarily involved, the perception
of a cauſe, -— ron e en
"Tay; us it cis hi _— Deity has 2
himſelf to us, by the means of principles
wrought 1 into our nature, which muſt infal-
_- libly
#3 O UK KNOWLEDGE
liblycoperate} upon viewing obfedts in theik |
rehrionof tauſe and effect. We diſtover ex-
wha] odge by heir qualitiey:of colour,
ſigurep ſiae and motion: In the perception
_ of thefe qualities, connectell after 4 certain;
manner ivcomprehended, the feeling of the
ſübſtanccor tiug to wih theſei qualities be-
long. HA tlie lame time, we; perceive this
ſubſta nee or thing, ſuppoſing it to have u be-
ginging of / exiſtende tobe an effect produ-
ccd byſome cauſe; aud we perceive the pow-
coat properties of this: cauſe from its ef-
feet. 10 If there i an Aptitude in the effect to
ſbnb end, v aitributè to the eauſe, intelli-
gence anf deſigut If the effet produced
be ſome thing that is good in atſelf, or that
Has tendeney to ſome good end or pupoſe,
we'rthfibitte goodies to the cauſe, as welt
45 intelligence and deſign. And this we do,
not by any proceſs of reaſoning? but merely
by perception and feeling. The Deity has
nöt left his exiſtence to bè gathefed from ſſip-
pery' and far fetched arguments. We have
dlir to open out eyes; to ——
1211 | o
- DF THE DEITY. 329
of him almoſt from every thing we perceive,
We diſcover his being and attributes, in
the fame manner that we diſcover external
objects. We have but to appeal to our own |
perceptions-; and none but thoſe, who are ſo
ſtubbornly hypothetical, as to. deny the exiſt-
ence of matter, againſt the evidence of their
ſenſes, can, ſeriouſſy and deliberately, deny
tlic exiſtence of the Deity. In ſine, there is
a wonderful harmony eſtabliſhed betwixt
our perceptions and the courſe of nature.
We truſt to our perceptions, for the exiſtence
of external objects, and their paſt, preſent
and. future operation. We truſt to theſe.
perceptions by the neceſſity of our nature,
and, upon experience, ſind ourſelves not de-
ceiyed. Our petception of the Deity, is as
diſtinct and authoritative, as that of external
objects. And tho here, we cannot have ex-
perience to appeal to, the want of experi-
ence. can never afford. an argument againſt
the authority of any perception, where, from
the nature of the thing, there can be no ex-
perience. It is ſufficient for conviction, that
3 Te 1 our
330 OUR KNOWLEDGE
our perceptions in general correſpond to the
wuth of things, wherever there is an oppor-
- tunity to try them by experience; and there-
fore, we can have no cauſe to doubt of our
perceptions in any caſe, where they are not
contradicted by experience.
So fir ihe Deity is diſcorerable, by every
85 perſon who. goes but one ſtep beyond the
ſurface of things, and their mere exiſtence.
We may indeed behold the earth in its gayeſt
dreſs, the heavens in all their glory, without
having any perception, other than that of
beauty, ſomething in theſe objects that plea-
ſes and delights us. Many paſs their lives,
brutiſhly involved in the groſs pleaſures of
ſenſe, without having any feeling, at leaſt,
any ſtrong or permanent feeling, of the Dei-
ty; and poſſibly, this in general is the caſe
of ſavages, before they are humanized by ſo-
ciety and government. But the Deity can-
not be long a ſecret from thoſe who are ac-
cuſtomed to any degree of reflection. No
ſooner are we enabled to reliſh beauties of
OF THE DEITY. 331
the ſecond and third claſs &; no ſooner do
we acquire a taſte for regularity, order, de-
ſign, and good purpoſe, than we begin to per-
ceive the Deity, in the beauty of the opera-
tions of nature. Savages who have no con-
ſiſtent rule of conduct, who act by the blind
impulſe of paſſion and appetite, and who
have only a glimmering of the moral ſenſe,
are but ill qualified to diſcover the Deity in
his works. If they have little or no percep-
tion of a juſt tenor of life, of the dignity of
behaviour, and of the beauty of action, how
ſhould they perceive the beauty of the works
of creation, and the admirable harmony of
all the parts, in the great ſyſtem of things?
Being conſcious of nothing but diſorder and
| ſenſual impulſe within, they cannot be con-
ſcious of any thing better without them.
Society teaches mankind ſclf-denial, and im-
proves the moral ſenſe. Diſciplined in ſo-
ciety, the taſte for order and regularity un-
folds itſelf by degrees. The ſocial affecti-
Ons
CE See the eſſay upon the foundation and principles of the |
law of nature,
332 OURKNOWLEDGE
ons gain the aſcendant, and the morality of
actions gets firm poſſeſſion of the mind. In
this improved ſtate, the beauty of the erea -
tion makes a ſtrong impreſſion and, we can
never ceaſe admiring the excellency of that
cauſe, who is the author of ſo many beautiful
effects. And thus, to ſociety we owe all the
bleſſings of life, and, particularly, the know -
ledge of the Deity, that moſt ineſtimable |
ber of aria err
GAR we „ gone no Rütber,
than to point out the means by which we
diſcoyer the Deity, and his attributes of pow
er, wiſdom and goodneſs. So far are we
carried by thoſe wonderful principles in our
nature, which diſcoyer the connection be-
twixt cauſe and effoct, and from the ef-
fect diſcover the powers and properties of
the eauſe, But there is one attribute of
the Supreme Belng, of the moſt eſſential
kind, which remains to be unfolded. It is,
what commonly paſſes under the name of
| PIT that he muſt have exiſted for
ever;
"OF THE DEITY. 333
ever; and conſequently, that he cannot be
conſidered as an effect, to require a cauſe of
his exiſtence; but, on the contrary, withour
being cauſed, that, mediately, or *
ly, he is the cauſe of all other things.
principle, we have had occaſion; more —
once, to mention, will make this evident,
ſez. that nothing can begin to exiſt with
out a cauſe. Every thing which comes in-
ro exiſtence; and once was not, is, by a ne-
ceſſary determination of our nature, perceiv-
ed as an effect, or as a production; the very
conception of which, involves an adequate
cauſe. Now, if every thing has a begin-
ning, one being, at leaſt, to wit, that which
firſt came into exiſtence; muſt be an effect or
production without a cauſe, which is a di-
rect inconſiſtency. If all beings had a be-
ginning, there was a time, when the world
was an abſolute void; upon which ſuppoſi-
tion, it is intuitively certain, that nothing
could cyer have come into exiſtence. This
1 we feel to be true, and our feel-
ing affords us, in this caſe, a more ſolid con-
viction,
334 OUR KNOWLEDGE
viction, than any demonſtration can do.
One being, therefore, muſt have exiſted from
all eternity, who, as he is not an effect or
production, cannot poſſibly be indebted for
his exiſtence to any other being. At the
ſame time, as we can have no foundation
for ſuppoſing the exiſtence of more eternal
beings than one, this one being muſt be the
Deity ;. becauſe, all other beings, mediately,
or immediately, owe their exiſtence to him.
All other beings, as they are ſuppoſed to be
produced in time, muſt have a cauſe of their
exiſtence, and, by the ſuppoſition, there
can be no other cauſe but this eternal Being.
The bulk of mankind, probably, in their no-
tions of the Deity, ſcarce comprehend this
attribute of ſelf- exiſtence. A man muſt be
uſed, a good deal, to abſtract reaſoning, who
of himſelf diſcovers this truth. But it is not
difficult to explain it to others, after it is diſ-
covered. And it deſerves well to be incul-
cated; for, without it, our knowledge of the
Deity muſt be extremely imperfect. His
other attributes of power, wiſdom and good-
| nels,
OF THE DEITY. 335
neſs, are, in ſome meaſure, communicated to
his creatures; but his attribute of ſelf- exiſ-
tence makes'the ſtrongeſt oppoſition imagin-
able, betwixt him and his creatures.
A FEw words will ſuffice upon the third
propoſition, which, in a good meaſure, is al-
ready explained. The effence of the Deity
is as beyond the reach of our comprehenſi-
Were he to exhibit himſelf to us, in
WE day-light, it is not a thing ſuppoſable,
that he could be reached by any of our ex-
ternal ſenſes. The attributes of ſelf- exiſtence,
wiſdom, goodneſs and power, are purely in-
tellectual. And therefore, ſo far as we can
comprehend, there are no ordinary means to
acquire any knowledge of the Deity, but by
his works. And indeed, by means of that
ſenſe which diſcovers cauſes from their ef-
feds, he has manifeſted himſelf to us in a fa-
tisfatory manner, liable to no doubt nor
error. And after all, what further evidence
can we deſire, when the evidence we have
of his exiſtence is little inferior to that we
have
33 OUR KNOWLEDGE
habe of our own -caiſtence?- Impreſſions of
perceptions ſerve us for evidence in both caf-
es Out own exiſtence, indeed, is, of all
fats, that which: concerns' us moſt; and,
therefore, of our own exiſtence we ought to
bay the higheſt certainty. Next to it, we
have not; as it appears to me, a greater cer-
tainty of any matter ef fact, than of the ex-
iſteng of the Deity: ''Tis, at leaft, equal to
the certalnty we! have of eternal objects,
and of the eonſtaney and uniformity of the
operations of nature, upon the faith of
dien ne Wen of hoop ad} 252
N 1 77 h 4 Are which hive
been. urged for the Being and attributes of
che Deity, are generally defective. Thete
is atk wanting one link of the chain, to
that peculiar' principle, upon which is
benden our knowledge of cauſes and theireſ-
fects. But the calm perceptions, turning habi-
mal by en e. are apt to be over-
| looked
| en euere
e b bn s
OF THE DEIT Y. 337
looked in our reaſonings. Many a pro-
poſition is rendered obſcure, by much la-
boured argument, for the truth of which,
we need but appeal to our own percepti-
ons. Thus, we are told, that the frame
and order of the world, the wiſdom and
goodneſs diſplayed in every part of it, are
an evident demonſtration of the Being of
2 God, I confels, theſe; things afford us
full conviction of his Being. But, laying a-
ſide perception and feeling, 1 ſhould be ut-
terly at a loſs, by any ſort of reaſoning, to
conclude the exiſtence of any one thing, from -
that of any other thing. In particular, by
what proceſs of reaſoning,” can we demon-
ſtrate this concluſion. to be true, that order
and beauty muſt needs proceed from a de-
ſigning cauſe? It is true, the idea of an effect
involves the idea of a cauſe. But how does
reafon make out, that the thing we name an
effect, may not exiſt of itſelf, as well as what
we name a cauſe? If it be urged, that hu-
man works, where means are apparently ad-
juſted to an end, and beauty and order diſ-
20 U u covered,
338 SUR KN OWL E DG E
covered, are always known to be the effects
of intelligence and deſign. True, they are:
and as / far as I have experience, I believe the
fact to be ſo. But, where experience fails
me, I deſire to know, by what ſtep, what
link in the chain of reaſoning, am I to con-
ne& my paſt experience with this inference,
that in every caſe, I ought to form the ſame
concluſion! If it be ſaid, that nature prompts
us to judge of ſimilar inſtances, by former
experience ʒ this is giving up reaſon, and de-
monſtration, to appeal to chat very feeling.
on which, I contend, the evidence of this
6 poſteriori, may be reſolved into this princi-
ple; which, no doubt, has had its due influ-
ence upon the writers who handle the pre-
ſent ſubject; tho', L muſt be allowed to ſay,
it has not been explained, nor, perhaps, ſuffi-
ciently underftood by them; whereby, all of
-them have been led into the error, of ſtating
as demonſtrative reaſoning, what is only an
appeal to our ſenſes. They reafon, for ex-
gere upon the ehe of- males. and fe-
males
"OF THE'DEITY.” 339
males, and hold the infinite odds againſt this
equality, to be a demonſtration, that matters
cannot be carried on by chance. This, con-
ſidered as mere reaſoning, docs not con-
clude; for, beſides that chance is infinite in
its varieties, there may be, ſome blind fata-
lity, ſome unknown cauſe, in the nature of
things, which produces this uniformity. But
tho"'reaſon cannot afford demonſtration in
this caſe; ſenſe and feeling afford vonviction.
The equality of males and females, is one
of the many inſtances which we know and
feel to be the effects of a deſigning cauſe;
and of which we can no more entertain a
doubt; than of out! own exiſtence. The
fame principle, which unfolds to us the con-
nection of cauſes and their effects, in the mot
common events, diſcovers this whole uni-
verſe to ſtand in the relation of an effect to a
ſupteme cauſe, } | |
To ſubſtitute feeling in place of reaſor
and demonſtration, may ſeem to put the evi-
dence of the Deity upon too low a footing.
But
349 OUR KNOWLEDGE |
But human reaſon is not ſo mighty, an'affair,
as philoſophers vainly pretend. It affords very
little aid, in making original diſcoveries. The
comparing of things together, and directing
our infeterices from feeling and experience,
are its proper province... In this way, reaſon
gives its aid, to lead us to the knowledge of
the Deity. It enlarges our views of final eauſ-
es, and of the prevalenve of wiſdom and good.
nels. But the application of the argument
from final canes, to prove the exiſtence of a
Deity; and the force of our concluſion, from
beautiful and orderly effects to a deſigning
cauſe, are not from reaſon, but from an inter-
nal light, which ſhows things in their relation
of cauſe and effect. Theſe concluſions reſt en-
tirely upon ſenſe and feeling; and it is ſur-
priſing, chat writers ſhould overlook what is
fa natural, and ſo obvious. But the pride of
man's heart, makes him deſire to extend his
diſcoveries, by dint of reaſoning. For reaſon-
ing is our own work. There is merit in acute-
neſs and E ; and we are better
* | pleaſed
- OF; THE DEITY. 434
pleaſed, 50 aſſume merit to ourſelves, than
humbly to acknowledge, that, to the moſt
important diſcoveries, we are directly led by
Ben aer of the. 1 1 0 0 27; 119990 975
7+ J: 19: 1601 Ji 1713 O 2350: KO
Midas: anfolded that privcpl, upon
which L would: reſt the moſt important af
all truths; objections muſt not be oyetlook
ed, ſuch AS appear to have weight: and I ſhall
endeavour to give thele objections their
ſtrongelt effect, which ought to be done in
every diſpute, and which becomes more ſtrict-
Y a duty, in handling a ſubject, where truth
is of the eee t bas
ens df mil abmtiotin bas mul li:
enen gn! NG. the above argument on |
all ſides, Ido not find, t that it can be more
advantagequſſy combated, than by oppoſing
to it, the eternity and ſell· exiſtence of the
world, governed by chance or blind fatality.
*Tis above admitted to be very difficult, by
any abſtract reaſoning, to prove the inconſiſ-
tency of this ſuppoſition. But we feel the
inconſiſtency; for the frame and conduct of
| this -
44>. 0UR'KNOWELEDGE
this world, contain in them, too much of wil.
dom, art and foreſight, to admit of the ſup-
poſition of chance or blind fatality.” We
are neceſſarily determined, by a principle in
our nature, to attribute ſuch effects to ſome
intelligent and defigning: cauſe. Suppoſing
this cauſe to be the world itſelf, wel have; at
leaſt, got free of the ſuppoſition of chance
and blind ſatality. And, if the world be a
being, endued with unbounded power, in-
telligence and benevolence, the. world is the
being we are in queſt of; for we have no
other idea of the Deity, but of an eternal
and ſelf-exiſtent being, endued with power,
wildom and goodneſs. But the hypotheſis,
thus reformed, Aill contradicts bur] percepti-
ons. The world is made up 'of parts, ſepar-
able; and actually ſer 4254 The attributes
of unbounded power, intelligence and bene
volence, do certainly not belong to this
earth) and as little to the ſun, moon or ſtars,
which are not 'conccived to be even volun-
tary agents, "'Thtrefore, theſe attributes
muſt belong to a Being, who mide the earth,
Jun,
- OF THE DEITY, 343
ſun, moon and ſtars, and ae the
whole e in one Seen. 6 Pills 26
1311 Sos n ni 20
A 58G ep W Phu may 1 that the
above reaſoning, by which we conclude the
eternity and\ſelf-exiſtence of one Being who
made this. world, does not. neceſſarily infer
ſuch a. concluſion, but only, an eternal ſuc
ceſſion of ſuch, beings; which may be rect
koned a more natural ſuppoſition, and morę
agreeable, te, our feelings, than the idea, of
one eternal. ſclf-exiſtent 11 without any
cauſe of di ieee: .
= matters 'fo 3 it i difficul to
Fea ideas with any degree of accuracy. I
have obſerved; above, that it is too much for
man, to gralp, | in his idea, an eternal Being,
whole exiſtence, upon that account, cannot
admit of the ſuppoſition of a cauſe. To talk,
as ſome, of our metaphyſical writers do, of
an abſolute neceſſity in the nature of the Be-
ing, as the cauſe of his exiſtence, is mere
jargon., For we. can conceive nothing moge
clearly,
Az
444 OUR KNOWLEDGE
dearly, than chat che cauſe muſt go before
the effect, and that the cauſe eannot poſſibly
be in the effect. But, however difficult it
may be, to conecie one eternal Being, with-
out a cauſe of its exiſtence; it is not leſs dif-
heult, to coneelve an eternal ſucceſſion of
: gr, deriving their exiſtenee from each
other?" Por, tho every link be ſuppoſed a
production, the chain irfelf exiſts without a
caſe, as well as one eternal Being does.
Therefore, an eternal ſucceſſion of beirigs,
is not à more batutal ſuppoſition, than one
eternal ſelf- exiſtent Being. And taking it
in a different light, it will appear a ſuppoſi-
ton much leſs natural, of rather altogether
unnatural. Succeſſion in exiſtence, imply-
ing the ſucceſſive annihilation of particulars,
i indeed a very natural conception. But
then, it is intimately connected with frall
and dependent beings, and cannot, without
the utmoſt violence to the conception, be
applied to the Maker of all things, to whom,
we naturally aſcribe, perpetuab exiſtence, and
Nr other f . And therefore, 4s
this
OF THE DEITY. #4245
this hypotheſis of a perpetual / ſucceſſion,
when applied to the Deity; is deſtitute of a-
ny ſupport from reaſon or experience, and is
contradicted by every one of our natural feel-
ings there can'be no . for adopting it.
| Tux * obſerviglod of oaths that
primos in orbe deos fecit timor, may be ob-
jeRed; as it will be thought unphiloſophical,
to multiply caufes for our belief of a Deity,
when fear alonẽ muſt have that effect. For
my part, I have little doubt of the truth of
the obſetvation, taking it in its proper ſenſe,
that fear is the foundation of our belief of
inviſible malevolent. powers. For it is evi-
dent, that fear can never be the cauſe of
our belief of a benevolent Deity. 1 have
un folded, in another eflay “, the cauſe of
out dread of malevolent A powers.
And I am perſuaded, that nothing has been
more hurtful to religion, than the irregular
propenſity in our nature, to dread ſuch pow-
ers. Superficial thinkers are © apt to confound
Wo ? | _ theſe
of our dread of fmt powers in the dark,
346 OUR KNOWLEDGE
theſe phantoms of the imagination, with the
objects of our true and genuine perceptions.
And finding ſo little reality in the former,
they are apt to conclude the latter, alſo, to
be a ſiction. But, if they gave any ſort of
deliberate attention, they would ſoon learn,
by the aſſiſtance of hiſtory, if not by origi-
nal feeling, to diſtinguiſh theſe objects, as
having no real connection with each other.
Man, in his original ſavage ſtate, is a ſhy |
and timorous animal, dreading every new
object, and attributing every extraordinary e-
vent, to fome inviſible malevolent power.
Led, at the ſame time, by mere appetite, he
has little idea of regularity and order, of the
morality of a&ions, or of the beauty of na-
ture. In this ſtate, it is no wonder, he-mul-
tiplies his inviſible malevolent powers, with+
out entertaining any notion of a ſupreme Be-
ing, the Creator of all things. As man rip-
ens in ſociety, and is benefited by the good-
will of others, his dread of new objets gra-
dually leffens. He begins to perceive regu-
larity and order in the coutſe of nature. He
| becomes
OF THE DEIT Y. 34
becomes ſharp · ſighted, in diſcovering cauſes
from effects, and effects from cauſes. He
aſcends gradually, thro the different orders
of beings, and their operations, till he diſ-
covers the Deity, who. is the cauſe. of all
things. And when we run over the hiſtory
of man, it will be found to hold true in fact,
that ſavages, who are moſt poſſeſt with the
opinion of evil ſpigits, have, of all people, the
leaſt idea of a Deity; and, that as all civilized
nations, without exception, entertain the firm
belief of a Deity, ſo the dread of evil ſpirits
wears out in every nation, in proportion to
their gradual advances in ſocial intercourſe,
. . AND this leads to a reflection, which cari-
not fail to have univerſal influence. Man, *
in a ſavage and brutiſh ſtate, is hurried a-
way by every guſt of paſſion, and by every
Phantom of the imagination, His powers
and faculties are improved by education, and
good culture. He acquires deep knowledge
in the nature of things, and learns accurate.
ly to 3 truth from falſehood. What
more
348 OUR RKNOWLE DGE
more ſatisfying evidence can we require, of
the truth of our perceptions of the Deity,
than to find theſe perceptions prevalent, in
Proportion, as mankind improve in the arts
of life? "Theſe perceptions go hand in hand
with the rational powers. As man increaſ-
es in knowledge, and in tho diſcerning fa-
eulties, his perceptions of the Deity become
proportionally more ſtrong, clear and autho-
ritative. Ihe univetſal conviction of a Dei-
ty, which has, without exception, ſpread
through all civilized nations, cannot poſſi-
bly be without a foundation in natute. To
inſiſt that it may, is to inſiſt, that an ef-
fect may be without an adequate cauſe. Rea-
on cannot be an adequate cauſe; becauſe,
our reaſonings upon this ſubject, muſt, at
beſt, be abſtruſe, and beyond the comprehen-
ſion of the bulk of mankind. Our know-
ledge, therefore, of the Deity, muſt be found-
ed on our perceptions and feelings, which
are common to mankind. Aud it is agree-
able to the analagy of nature, that God
ſhould diſcoyer himſelf to his rational crea-
ana tures
OFTHEDEIT V. 349
tures after this manner. If this ſubject be
involved in any degree of obſcurity, writers
are to blame, who, in a matter of ſo great
importance, ought to give no quarter co ge-
curacy of thought or expreſſion. But it is
an error, common to the bulk of writers, to
ſubſtitute reaſon for feeling. The faculty
of perception, working ſilently, and without
effort, i is generally overlookt. And we muſt
find a reaſon for every thing we judge to be
true; tho' the truth of the propoſition often
depends, not upon reaſoning, but upon, mere
feeling. Ir is thus, that morality has' been
brought under ſome obſcurity, by metaphy-
ſical writers; and it is equally to be regret-
ed, that the knowledge of the Deity has
been brought under obſcurity, by the ſame
ſort of writers.
o'4 4 z
Hav: NG (ated the belief of a Deity up-
on its proper baſis, 'we ſhall proceed to take
a general view of the attributes, which be⸗
long to that great Being; and firſt,
0
— .
Lu
. ©
: }
oy
. r ts 9 oe —
25 0 un KN OWLEDSGE:
of the 1 of the DEIT r.
Wie regard to this, and all the o-
ther attributes of the Deity, it ought
to be no di iſcquraging reflection, that we
| cannot attain an adequate idea of them. The
Deity i is too grand - an object, to be compre-
hended, 1 in any perfect manner, by the hu-
man r mind, We have not words nor ideas,
which, any way correſpond to the manner
of his exiſtence. Should ſome good angel un-
dertake t to be our inſtructor, we would ſtill
be at a loſs, to form a diſtin& conception of
it. Power, intelligence and goodneſs, ate
axtibures which we can comprehend. But
with re gard to the nature of the Deity
in 3 and the manner of his exiſt-
ence, we muſt be ſatisfied, in this mortal
ſtate, to remain, much! in the dark. The at-
tribute of Unity, i is what, of all, we can have
the leaſt certainty about, by the li ght of na-
ture. It is not inconſiſtent, that — mould
be two or more beings of the very higheſt or-
ger, whole eſſence and actions are ſo regulated
1 8 by
OF THE DEITY. 351
by the nature of the beings themſelves, as
to be altogether concordant and harmoni-
ous. In truth, the nature of the Divine Be-
ing is ſo far out of our reach, that we muſt
be " bſolutely at a loſs, to apply to it unity or
multiplicity. This property applies to num-
bers, and to individual things, but we know
not that it will apply to the Deity. At the
fame time, if we may venture to judge, of a
matter ſo remote from common apprehen-
ſion, we ought to conclude i in favours of the
attribute of unity. We perceive the neceſſity
of admitting one eternal Being; and it is ſuf.
ficient, that there is not the ſmalleſt founda-
tion from ſenſe or reaſon, to ſuppoſe more
than one.
Of
352" OURKNOWLEDGE
0% the 1 * INTELLIGENCE
N .
1
1
„
reer
to both. The wiſdom and power, which
muſt neceſſarily be ſuppoſed, in the creation
and government of this world, are ſo far be-
yond the reach of our comprehenſion, that
they may juſtly be ſtiled infinite. We can
aſcribe no bounds to either: and we have
no other notion of inſnite, but that, to which
we can aſcribe no bounds.
„ "
Of
OF TRE DEITY: 35
Of the BENEvoLENCE of the Derry,
4 HE mixed nature of the events, which
1 fall under our obſervation, ſeems, at
firſt light, to point out a mixed cauſe, partly
good and partly evil. The author of « phi-
« Joſophical eflays concerning human un-
. « derſtanding,” in his eleventh eſſay, “of
ce the practical conſequences of natural reli-
« pion,” puts in the mouth of an Epicurean
philoſopher, a very ſhrewd argument againſt
the benevolence of the Deity. The ſum of
it is what follows. © If the cauſe be known
only by the effect, we never ought to aſ-
« ſign to it any qualities, beyond what are
i pteciſely requiſite to produce the effect.
Allowing therefore God to be the Author
« of the exiſtence and order of the univerſe;
« it follows, that he poſſeſſes that preciſe
« degree of power, intelligence and benevo-
« lence, which appears in his workmanſhip.”
And hence, from the preſent ſcene of things,
apparently fo full of ill and diſorder, it is
| | 12 con-
354 OUR KNOWLEDGE
concluded, * That we have no foundation
« for aſcribing any attribute to the Deity,
but what is preciſely commenſurate
« the imperfection of this world.” With
regard to mankind, an exception is made. © In
«works of human art and contrivance, it is
« admitted, that we can advance from the
tc effect to the cauſe, and returning back from
e the cauſe, that we conclude new effects,
«"which have not yet exiſted. Thus, for in-
«ſtance, from the ſight of a half-finiſhed
« building, ſurrounded with heaps of ſtones
« and mortar, and all the inſtruments of
« maſonry, we naturally conclude, that the
« building will be finiſhed, and receive all
the farther improvements, which art can be-
4 ſtow upon it. But the foundation of this
« reaſoning is, plainly, that man is a being
% whom we know by experience, and whoſe
« 'motives and defigns we are acquainted
6 with, which enables us to draw many in-
4 ferences, concerning what may be expect-
ce ed from him. But did we know man on-
by b. from the ſingle work or production,
« which
- OF THE DEITY. 335
7 which we examine, we could not argue in
« this manner; becauſe our knowledge of
* all the qualities which we aſcribe to him,
« being, upon that ſuppoſition, derived from
the work or production, it is impoſſible
they could point any thing farther, or be
« the foundation of any new inference.”
| SUPPOSING reaſon to be our arab} guide
in theſe matters, which is ſuppoſed by this
philoſopher in his argument, I cannot help
ſeeing his reaſoning to be juſt. It appears
to be true, that by no inference of reaſon,
can I conclude any power or benevolence in
the cauſe, beyond what is diſplayed in the
effect. But this is no wonderful diſcovery.
The philoſopher might have carried his argu-
ment a greater length. He might have ob-
ſerved, even with regard to a man I am per-
fectly acquainted with, that I cannot con-
clude, by any chain of reaſoning, he will fi-
niſh the houſe he has begun. Tis to no
purpoſe to urge his temper and diſpoſition.
For, from what principle of reaſpn can I in-
| ter,
356 OUR KNOWLEDGE
fer, that theſe will continue the ſame as ſor-
merly ? He might further have. obſcrved,
that the difficulty is ne, with regard to
have begun the building. For what —
tion have I, to transfer the qualities of the
perſons I am acquainted with, to ſtrangers?
This ſurely is not performed by any proceſs
of reaſoning. There is ſtill à wider ſtep,
which is, that reaſon will net help me out
in attributing to the Deity, even that preciſe
degree of power, intelligence and benevo-
lence, which appears in his workmanſhip. I
find no inconſiſtency. in ſuppoſing, that a
blind and undeſigning cauſe may be produc.
tive of excellent effects. It will, I preſume,
be, difficult to produce a demonſtration to
the contrary. And ſuppoſing, at the inſtant
of operation, the Deity to have been endu-
ed with theſe: properties, can we make out,
by any argument à priori, that they are ſil]
fubliſting in him? Nay, this lame philoſo-
pher might have gone a great way further, |
by obſerving, when any ing comes into ex
iſtence,
——
OF THE DIETY, 3357
iſtence, that, by no proceſs of reaſoning, can
we ſo much as infer any cauſe of its exiſt»
ENCE. | 7 j
Bur happily for man, where reaſon fails
him, perception and feeling come ta his aſ-
ſiſtance. By means of principles implanted
in our nature, we are- enabled to make the
above concluſions and inferences,” as, at full
length is made out, in ſome of the forego»
ing eſſays. More particularly, power, diſ-
covered in any object, is perceived as a per-
manent quality, like figure or extenſion *.
Upon this account, power diſcovered by a
fingle effect, is conſidered, as ſufficient, to
produce the like effects without end. Fur-
ther, great power may be diſcovered from a
ſmall effect; hich holds even in bodily
ſtrength ; as where an action is performed
readily, and without effort. This is equal.
ly remarkable in wiſdom and intelligence.
A very ſhort argument may unfold correct-
neſs of judgment and a deep reach. Tho
| weh
# Eſſay upon our knowledge of future events.
358 OUR KNOWLEDGE.
fame holds in art and skill. Wasn 2
flight piece of workmanſhip done with taſte;
we readily obſery 'e, that the artiſt was equal
to a greater tasx. But it is moſt of all re-
markable i in the quality of benevolence. F or
even, from a ſingle effect produced by an un-
known cauſe, which appears to be accurate-
ly adapted to ſome good purpoſe, we neceſ-
farily attribute to this cauſe, benevolence,
as well as power and wiſdom *. It is in-
deed but a weak perception, which ariſes
from a ſingle effect: but ſtill, ir is a clear
and diſtin perception of pure benevolence,
without any mixture of malice; for ſuch con-
tradictory qualities, are not readily to be aſ-
cribed to the ſame cauſe. There may be a
difficulty indeed, where the effect is of a
mixt nature, partly evil, partly good; or
where a variety of effects, having theſe op-
poſite characters, proceed from the ſame
* 4 Such intricate caſes cannot fail to
embaraſs us. But, as we muſt form ſome
ſeniment. the reſolution of the difficulty
plainly
Eſſay of our idea of power, at the cloſe,
OF THE DEITY. 339
plainly is, that we muſt aſeribe benevo-
lence or malevolence to the cauſe, from the
prevalence of the one or other quality in
the effects. If evil makes the greateſt fi-
gure, we perceive the cauſe to be malevolent,
notwithſtanding of oppolite inſtances 'of
goodneſs. . If, upon the whole, goodneſs
is ſupereminent, we perceive the cauſe to be
benevolent ; and are not moved by the croſs
inſtances of evil, which we endeavour to
reconcile, as we can, to pure benevolence.
It is, indeced, true, that where the oppoſite
effects nearly balance each other, our per-
ception cannot be entire upon the ſide of be-
nevolence or malevolence. But, if good ot
evil greatly preponderate, the weight in the
oppoſite ſcale goes for nothing: the per-
ception is entire upon one fide or other.
Becauſe it is the tendency of our percepti-
ons, to. reje& a mixt character made up of
benevolence and malevolence, unleſs, where
it is neceſſarily preſt home upon us, by an
equality of oppoſite effects.
SUCH
1
3% OUR KNOWLEDGE
Soc n' are the concluſions, that we can
with cettainty draw, not indeed from reaſon,
but from ſenſe and feeling. So little are we
acquainted with the eſſence and nature of
things, that we cannot eſtabliſh theſe con-
cluſions upon any argument @ priori. Nor
would it be of great benefit to mankind, to
have theſe concluſions demonſtrated to them;
few having either leiſure or genius to deal
in ſuch profound ſpeculations. It is more
| wiſely ordered, that they appear to us intui-
tively certain. We feel that they are true,
and our feelings have full authority over us.
This is a ſolid foundation for our conviction
of the benevolence of the Deity. If, from
a ſingle effect, pure benevolence in the cauſe
can be perceived or felt; what doubt can
there be, of the pure benevolence of the
Deity, when we ſurvey his works, preg-
nant with good-will to mankind ? Innu-
merable inſtances, of things wiſely adapt-
ed to good purpoſes, give us the ſtrongeſt
| feeling, of the goodnefs, as well as wiſdom, of _
the Deity ; which is joined with the firmeſt
per-
OF THE DEIT V.
perſuaſion of conſtancy and e in
his operations. A few croſs inſtances, which
to us, weak-ſighted mortals, may appear of
evil tendency, ought not, and eannot make
us waver. When we know ſo little of na-
ture, it would be ſurpriſing, indeed, if we
ſhould be able to account for every event,
and its final tendency. Unleſs we were let
into the counſels of the Almighty, we can
never hope to unravel all the ITE of
the creation.
A8 we cannot ſay too much upon a ſub-
jed, which is of all the moſt .intereſting, I
ſhall add ſome other conſiderations, to juſ-
ufy our belief of the pure benevolence of
the Deity. And, in the firſt place, I ven-
ture to lay it down for a truth, that pure
malice, is a principle not to be found in hu-
man nature. Ihe benevolence of man, is, in-
deed, often checked and counteracted by jea-
louſy, envy, and other ſelfiſh paſſions, But,
theſe are diſtin from pure malice; for, pure.
8 is not oppoſite to ſelf-intereſt, but
0 | 2 2 to
362 OUR KNOWLEDGE
to ſatisfaction in the misfortunes. and mi-
ſeries, of others. Now, the independent
and all-ſufficient. nature of the Deity, ſets
bim above all ſuſpicion, of being liable to
enyy, or the purſuit of any intereſt, other
chan tlie general intereſt of his creatures.
Wants, weakneſs, and oppoſition of i inte-
reſts, are the cauſes of ill - will and malice a
mong men. From all ſuch influences, the
Deity muſt be. exempted... And therefore,
_ unleſs we ſuppoſe him leſs perfect than the
creatures he has made, we cannot readily
ſuppoſe, that there is * u of er
in MW; nature. | 4
Y Tn. HERE: ee confideration, which
has always afforded me great. ſatisfaction.
Did natural evil prevail in reality, as much
as it docs, in appearance, we muſt expect,
that the enlargement of natural knowledge,
ſhould daily diſcover new inſtances of bad;
as Well as of good intention. But the fact
1s. directly otherways. Our diſcoveries aſcer-
4ait ere and more 105 the benevolence
5 A of
p Ek DEI T v. 363
of the Deity, by unfolding beautiful final
cauſes without number; while the appear-
ances of evil intention gradually vaniſh, like
4 miſt, after the ſun breaks out. Many
things are now found to be curious in theit
eontrivance, and productive of good effects,
-which formerly appeared uſeleſs, or, perhaps,
of evil tendency. And, in the gradual pro-
preſs of learning, we have the ſtrongeſt rea-
ſon to expect, that many more diſcoveries,
of the like kind, will be made hereafter. This
very conſideration, had we nothing elſe tb
rely on, ought to make us reſt upon the aſ-
ſurance which our feelings give us of the be-
nevolence of the Deity; without giving way
to the perplexity of a few croſs appegrances,
which, in matters ſo far beyond our com-
prehenſion, ought to be aſcribed to our own
ignorance, and, by no means, to any ne
nan the Dewey. 21 1 r ein,
a eee el
1 $HALL ſatisfy myſelf with ſuggeſting
Kai one other obſervation, that, inferring a
mixed nature in the Deity, from ecverits
10 | which
*
364 OUR KNOWLEDGE
which cannot be clearly -reconciled to be-
nevolence, is at beſt, new moulding the
with greater facility, form a conception of
two oppoſite powers, governing the univetſe,
than of one power, endued with great good:
neſs, and great malevolence; which are brin-
b eee n
3; <% AUT
195 a . e ae of
this attribute of pure benevolence, has a wide
and ſolid foundation. It is impreſſed upon
us by a natural feeling, byceyery diſcoyery
we wake in the ſcience of nature, and by e-
very argument which is ſuggeſted. by reaſon
and reflection. There is but one pbjeRtion
of apy weight, which gan be moved againſt
it, ariſing from the difficylty of accounting
for natural and moral evil. It. is pbſeryed a-
bove, that this objection, however it may
Puzale, ought not to ſhake our faith in his
attribute; becauſe, an argument from igno-
TRACE, can never be a comineing argument
geld in
"OF THE DEITY. 365
in any caſe; and this therefore, in its ſtrong-·
eſt light, appears but in the ſhapę of a dif- |
ficulty, not of a ſolid objection. At the
fame time, as the utmoſt labour of thought
is well beſtowed upon a ſubject, in Which
mankind is ſo much intereſted, I ſhall pro-
ceed to ſuggeſt ſome reflections, which may
tend to ſatisfy us, that the inſtances com-
monly given of natural and moral evil, are
not ſo inconſiſtent with pure benevolence,
n at 1 light, by be om ors! RY
- On E erben ban muſt by eyes,
which; I preſume, will be admitted withaut
much heſitation. It certainly will not be
thought, in any degree, inconſiſtent with the
pure benevolence of the Deity, that the
world is filled with an endleſs variety of
creatures, gradually aſcending in the ſcale of
being, from the moſt groveling, to the moſt
glorious.” To think otherways, would be in
effect to think, that all inanlmate beings ought
to be endued with life and motlon, and that
all animate. beings ought to be angels. H.
al It
366 ou W
-at firſt view, it ſhall be thought, chat infinite
yo er and goodneſs cannot ſtop ſhort of ab-
te perfection in their operations, and that
the work of creation muſt be confined to
the higheſt order of beings in the higheſt
perfection; this thought will ſoon be cor-
rected, by conſidering, that, by this ſuppoſi-
tion, 2 great void is left, which, according
to the preſent ſyſtem of things, is filled with
beings; and with life and motion. And, ſup-
poling the world to be repleniſhed with the
higheſt order of beings, created in the high-
eſt degree of perfection, it is certainly an act
of more extenſive beneyolence, to complete
the work of creation, by the addition of an
inbnity of creatures leſs perſect, than to leave
1 great 'blank, berwixt —— of the 9
6 2 27 and 1
8 Nie * x0
2
"us umperflion thin of i a created be-
ing, abſtraftly conſidered, is no impeich-
ment of any of the attributes of the Deity,
whether power, wiſ⸗ dom, or benevolence.
Aud if fo, neither can * abſtractly conf
8 | 290% S164) Os eelecat a. WG
%
. OF THE DEITY. 367
* be an impeachment, ſo far as it is the
natural and neceſſary conſequence of imper-
fection. The government of the world is
carried on by general laws, which produce
eonſtancy and uniformity in the operations
of nature. Among many reaſons for this,
we can clearly diſcover one, which i is unfold-:
ed in a former eſſay *, that, were not na-
ture uniform and hes, men, and other
ſenſible beings, would be altogether at a loſs-
how to conduct themſelves, Our nature is
adjuſted to theſe general laws, and miſt,
therefore, be ſubjected to all their varieties,
whether beneficial or hurtful, We are made
| ſenſible beings, and therefore equally. ca-
pable of pleaſure and pain. And it muſt
follow, from the very nature of the thing, that
delicacy of feeling, which is the ſource of
much pleaſure, may be equally the ſource of
much pain. It js true, we cannot pronounce
it to be a contradiction, that a being ſhould
be B 9h of pleaſure only, and not of
But no argument can be founded up-
on * ſuppoſition, but what will conclude,
that
7 — —
% ON KNOWLE DOE
thae a creature, ſuch as man, ought to have
no plate im the ſeale of beings; which ſures
I will not be maintained; For it is ſtill bet-
ter; that man be as he is, chan not be at all.
E is further to be obſerved in general, that
averfion'to pain; is not ſo great, ar leaſt in
© mankind; as to counterbalance every other
appetite. Moſt men would purchaſe an ad-
ditional ſhare of happineſs, at the expence
of ſome pain. And therefore, it can afford
no argument againſt the benevolence of the
Deity, that created beings art found liable to
pain, from theit nature and condition, ſup-
poſing, in the main, their life to be comforts
able. Their ſtate is ſtill preferable to that
G inanimate matter, bre Nat 15055
fare N * LEONG
Tavs dell i pas- e even req a ge.
dil view of our ſubject, that natural evil
affords no argument againſt the benevolence
of the Deity,” And this will ſtill appear in a
fironger light, when we go to particulars.
111 is fully laid "—_ in the firſt eſſay, that the
bocial
OF THE DEIT T. 369
ſocial affections, even when molt, painful,
are accompanied with no degree of averſion,
whether i in the feeling itſelf, or in the after
reflection. We value ourſelves the more, for
being ſo affected; being conſcious that it is
right and meet to be ſo affected. Diſtreſles,
therefore, of this ſort, cannot be called evils,
when we have no averſion to them, and do
not repine at them. And if theſe be laid a-
ſide, what may be juſtly termed natural evils,
will be reduced within a ſmall compaſs.
They will be found to proceed neceſſarily,
and by an eſtabliſhed train of cauſes and ef-
fects, either from the imperfection of our
nature, or from the operation of general
las. Pain is not diſtributed through the
world, blindly, ot with any appearance of
malice; ; but ends, proportions and mea-
ſures, are obſerved in the diſtribution. Sen-
ible marks of good tendency, are conſpicu-
ous, even in the harſneſt diſpenſations « of Pro-
vidence, as well as in its general laws: and
the good tendency of theſe general laws, i is a
ſure pledge of benevolence, even in thoſe i in-
Aaa ſtances,
. * .
% OUR KNOWLEDGE
ſlancco, where we may be at a loſs about their
application. One thing is certain, that there is
zn man, a natural prineiple to fubmit to theſe
| geticral lows and their conſequences. And,
were this principle cultivated, as it ought to
be; mankind would have the fame cotifctouf-
neſs of 'reRtitude of eonduct, in ſubmitting
to the laws of the natural world, that they
have in ſubmitting to the laws of the moral
world, and would as little repine at the diſ-
a treſſes of che one Kind, as at "yr of ms _
alter. b er 15
?
Bor e une as this .
ment, unleſs we proceed further, to ſhow,
chat paitiand diſtels are produRive of ma-
fold good ends, and that the preſent fyſtei
could not well be without them. In the firſt
place, pain i8 nteeſſary, as à monitor of w har
is hurtful and dangerous to life. Every mary |
ps WR of his own preſervati ·
; and he would be ill qualified for this
_ were he left entirely to the guidance of
| cuban. He would for want of food,
Were
. OF THE DEITY.. 371
were it not for the Fain of hunger. And but
for the Pain ariſing from fear, he —
precipitate himſelf, every moment, into th 0
moſt deſtructive — * "wa In the next
place, pain is the great ſanction of laws,
bach hyman and diyine, There would be
no order nor diſcipline in the world, without
it. In the third place, the diſtreſles any
diſappointments, which ariſe from the un-
certainty of ſeaſons, from the variable tem-
pers of thoſe we are connected with, and from
other croſs accidents, are wonderfully well
adapted to our conſtitution, by keeping our
hopes and fears in perpetual agitation, Man
is an active being, and is not in his ele-
ment, but when in variety of occupation. A
conſtant, and uniform tenor of life, without
hopes qr fears, however agrecable in itſelf,
would ſoon. bring on ſatiety and diſguſt,
Pain. therefore is neceſſary, not only to en-
hance our pleaſures, but to kerp us in perpe;
wal motion. And it is needleſs to obſerve, a
ſecond time, that, to complain of man's con-
to
ſtitution in this reſpect, is, in other words,
3 o v RKNOWLEDG E
to complain, that there is ſuch a creature 28
man in the ſcale of being. And to mention
but one other thing, pain and diſtreſs have a
wonderful tendency to advance the Intereſts
of ſociety. Grief, compaſſion and \/mpathy,
| arc ſtrong connecting principles, by which
every particular man is made ſubfervient to
— geveral good bf een — 5 I
1 rk eib dll brich of my ſubject
Hith a general reflection, which is teſerved
to the laſt plate, beeanſe; in my apprelienſi-
on, it brings the argument for the benevo-
lence of the Deity, withm a very narrow
compaſs. When we run over what we know
of the formation and government of this
world, the inſtances are without number, of
good intention, and of conſummate wifdom,
In adjuſting things to good ends and purpo—
ſes. And-it is equally true,; that, as we ads
vance in knowledge, ſcenes of this kind-mul-
riply upon us. This obſetvation is enforeed
above. But I have now to obſerve, that
there is not a fingle inftanoe:to bo met with,
>» which
' OF THE DEITY. 373
which can be juſtly aſcribed to malevolence
or bad intention. Many evils may be point-
ed out; evils at leaſt as to us. But when
the moſt is made of ſuch inſtances, they ap-
pear only to be the conſequences of general
laws, which regard the whole more than par-
ticulars; and therefore are no marks of ma-
levolence in the author and governor of the
world. Were there any doubt about the
tendency of ſuch inſtances, it would be more
rational to aſeribe them to want of power,
than want of benevolence, which is ſo con-
ſpicuous in other inſtances. But we can-
not rationally aſcribe them to either, but to
the pre-eſtabliſhed order and conſtitution of
things, and to the neceflary” imperfection of
the nature of all created beings, And, after
all, laying the greateſt weight upon theſe na-
_ turalevils, that can reaſonably be demand.
ed, the accompt ſtands thus. Inſtances with+
out number of benevolence, in the frame and
government of this world, ſo direct and clear,
as not to admit of the ſmalleſt dubiety. - On
n= other ſide, natural evils are ſtated, which,
374 OUR KNOWLEDGE
At beſt, are very. doubtful inſtances of male-
volence, and may be aſcribed, perhaps ob-
ſeurely, to another cauſe. In balancing this
acrompt, where the evil appearances are ſo
far out- numbered by the good, why ſhould
we helitate. a moment to aſcribe pure benc-
valence to the Deity, and to conclude theſe
evils to be neceſſary defects in a good conſti-
futian ; eſpecially when it is ſo, repugnant to
gur natural feelings, to aſeribe great benevo-
my and dera ee * the ſame 11
1 will be obſerved, that in bene che
ahore objection to the benevolence of the
HBeity, 1 have avoided urging. any argument
from our future exiſtence; tho' it affords 2
fruitful field. of comfort, greatly overbalane |
cing the tranſitory evils of this life. But I
ſhould ſcarce think it fair reaſoning, to urge
ſuch topics upon this ſubject; which would
be arguing in a cirele, | Becauſe the beneyo ·
lence: of the Deity i is the only ſolid principle,
$18 Hom vhence We can! infer a future exiſtence,
Havi NG
OF THE DEITY, 275
Har NG Gſpatehed what occurred upon
natural evil, we come now, to conſider mos
ral evil as an objection againſt the benevo-
ſence of the Deity. And, ſome writers urge
this objection ſo far, as to conclude, that
God is the cauſe of moral evil, ſince he has
given man a conſtitution, by which, moral
evil, does, and muſt abound. It is certainly
no ſatisfying anſwer to this objection, that
moral evil is the neceſſary conſequence of
human liberty, when human liberty muſt,
at beſt, appeat a doubtful fact. And even
admitting of human, liberty, ĩt is. a very ppſ-
ſible ſuppoſition, 1 that man, might have been.
endued with a moral ſenſe, ſo lively and
ſtrong, as to be abſolutely authoritative oyer
his actions. Waving, therefore, the argu-
ment from human liberty, we muſt look a-
bout for a more ſolid anſwer to the objection;
which will not be difficult, when we conſi-
der this matter, as laid down in a former ef.
fay *. It is there made out, 'tis hoped . to.
the ſatisfaction of che reader, that human ac-
tions
"0 Eſſay upon liberty and neceſſity,
$6 O R KNOWLEDGE
tions, are, all of them, directed by general
haws, which have an operation, not leſs in-
fallible, than thaſe laws have, which govern
mere matter; that the feeling we have of li-
berty, does not correſpond to the truth of
things; and, that our peculiar manner of con-
ceiving human actions, as right or wrong,
and as praiſe or blame worthy, is wholly
founded on this deceitful feeling. The final
cauſe of this ſingular feeling, is alſo there laid
open; that it is happily adjuſted to the na-
ture of man, as an imperfect being, and tends
to promote virtue in an eminent degree. This
diſcovery affords a ſolid anſwer to an objec-
tion, which, ſo far as I know, has not hi-
therto received any good anſwer. Andi it is,
that the objection reſts entirely upon a falſe
ſuppoſition, as if human actions were ſeen
In the fame light by the Deity, in which
they are ſeen by men. A feeling, which is
not agreeable to the truth of things, tho”
wiſely ordered to correct an imperfect conſti-
tution in man, cannot be aſcribed to a per-
fect eins The Deity perceiving all things
28
OF THE DEITY. 3775
as they ate, without diſguiſe, knows, that
what is termed moral evil in the language f
man, is, as well as moral good, the feſult of
general laws, and of a neceſſary connection
betwixt cauſes and their effects. Every thing
poſſeſſes its proper place in his plan. All
our actions contribute equally to carry on the
great and good deſigns of Providence; and,
therefore, there is nothing which in his
ſight is evil; at leaſt, W . erer
* the r
CoNnSIDERING' the objection in the a-
bove light, which is the true one, it loſes its
force. For it certainly will not be-maintain-
ed as an argument againſt the goodneſs of the
Deity, that he endued mankind with a ſenſe
of moral evil; which, in reality, is one of
the greateſt bleſſings beſtowed 'upon him,
and which eminently $28 _ ner
the brute creation. |
Zur K now, che objection is turned} into
another ſhape, and it be demanded, Why was
not every man endued with ſo ſtrong a ſenſe
P. Bbb | of
5 OU KNOWLEDGE, &c.
of morality, as to be completely authorita-
tive over all his principles of action, which
would prevent much remorſe to himſelf, and
much miſchief to others? It is anſwered,
firſt, that chis would not be ſufficient for in
exact regularity of conduct, unleſs man's
judgment of riglit and wrong were alſo: in-
fallible. For, as long as we differ about
what is haurs, and what is mine, injuſtice
muſt be the conſequence, in many inſtances,
however innocent we be. But, in the next
place, to complain of a defect in the moral
| ſenſe}: is to complain, that we are not per-
fect creatures. And, if this complaint be
ell founded, We may, with equal juſtice,
cmplain, that our underſtanding is but mo-
derate, and that, in general, our powers and
faculties are limited. Why ſhould it be urg-
ed as an objection, that the moral ſenſe is
zmperfect, when all our ſenſes, internal and
external are imperfect? In ſhort, if this com-
plaint be, in any meaſure, juſt, it muſt go the
dength; as above obſeryed, to prove, that it
is not conſiſtent - with the benevolence of
the De. to create ſuch a being as man.
20 d CO N-
i 27 7 7 A 1 \ g 5
*
cou so » 0
rr
„E. Fon — gone * —
..of ſubjects, not without labour and
8 of thought. And now, like a tra-
veller, who, after examining the different
parts of a country, aſcends ſome eminence to
review. the whole; let us ' refreſh, ourſelves,
by looking back, and cis ahn giſoorer
en. | .coiBilÞ 3515
— ſubject of theſe hon „Mas. We
have formed no imaginary ſchemes for ex-
alting, or for depreſſing his nature. The
inquiry has been, whither his capacities and
Powers ſuit his preſent circumſtances, and fit
bim for acting a proper part in life. We
begin with examiping, ſome of the great
{pri ings of action. Upon accurate {crutiny,
it is found, that A eee or deſire of good,
is not our ſole principle of action; but, that
we are furniſhed, beſides, with a variety of
impelling power Ningled in ſoriety, for
. Li th 0
*
4
380 CONCLUSION.
che convenience of mutual help, it is neceſ-
fary, thar we frel for edeh other. But as
che feeling for another's ſorrow, cannot but
be painful; here is traced, an admirable con-
trivance, to reconcile us to this virtuous paln;
by taking off that averſion to pain, which,
in all other caſes, is an over-ruling principle.
This explains a ſeemingly ſtrange phænome -
non, that we ſhould ſeek entertainment, from
repreſentations which immerſe us in the deep-
eſt affliction. From man as a ſocial, we pro-
ceed to man as a moral agent. We find him
ſenſible of beauty, in different ranks and or-
ders; and eminently ſenſible of it, in its highs
eſt order that of ſerititient; action and ela-
. rafter; But the ſenſe of moral beauty, is
not alone ſufficient; ' The importante of
morality requires ſome ſtronger principle'to
guard it; ſome' checks and reſtraints from
vice, more ſevere than mere difapprobation,
'Theke are not wanting. Jo the ſenſe of
beauty, is ſuperadded a ſenſe of obligation 3
z feeling of ght and wrong,” which conſti-
totes 3 Jaw wichin us; | "TH thaw *
| 780 |
CONCLUSION. 385
the primary virtues, thoſe which are eſſen-
tial to ſociety, under the ſtricteſt ſanctions.
Pain, the ſtrongeſt monitor, is here employ»
ed, to check tranſgreſſion: whilft in the ſubs
limer, more (heroic parts of virtue, where
ſtrict obligation ends, pleaſure is employed
to reward the performance. - To nothing are
we prompted as a duty, for which we are not
firſt prepared, by ſome inward - principle.
An exact proportion is maintained betwixt
the ſtrength of our internal principles, and
their uſefulneſs. From ſelf, the object bf
our moſt eſſential principles, affection ſpreads
thro all the connections we have with others,
whether formed by natural ties, founded on
gratitude, or created by ſympathy with the
diſtreſſed; till, among perſons indifferent and
unknown, affection is gradually loſt, Ar-
rived at that point, where beneyolence would
vaniſh by the diſtance of the object, nature
has an admirable artifice for reviving its force;
by directing it on the abſtract idea of a Pub-
lic and a Whole: which, tho' faint and ob-
ſeure in the conception, is yet equal to any
28 | of
$2 CON LUSs TON.
of bur ideas, in force and energy. Man 1s, in
this manner, furniſhed for acting a proper
And uſeful part, in the ſyſtem to which He
belongs. But thĩs ſyſtem could not be re-
gulated upon any pre- adjuſted plan: the ac-
tions of man could not proceed with any
order, nor be ſubject to any government; un-
leſs all were neceſſarily determined by mo-
tives. At the fame time, man could not well
conceive himſelf to be a moral, without con-
<eiving himſelf, alſo, to be a free, agent. Hence
the neceſſity of giving his 'mind a peculiar
caſt; in which, we cannot but diſcern the
brighteſt characters of A e wiſdom. By
Having his practical ideas, and his moral
feelings, formed upon an imaginary ſtate
of liberty, conſcience exerts its power over
Kim, with full authority; and ſcope is gi-
n, for à far richer and more diverſified
ſcene of action, than the perpetual conſci-
'oulneſs of neceſſity could have admitted.
Having ſhown, that morils are eſtabliſhed on
an immovable foundation, we proceed to
how, by „ inward powers we are led: to
* the
CONCLUSION. 38
the knowledge and belief of ſome of the moſh.
neceſſary truths ; particularly that: which it
moſt imports us to know, the exiſtence of
the Deity. To this we pave the way, by a
full preparation of reaſoning. We firſt con-
ſder the nature of that act of the mind, which |
is termed belief; of which the immediate
foundation is the teſtimony of our ſenſes. If
the teſtimony they give to the real exiſtence
of a material world, be a mere illuſion, as
ſome have held, all belief: founded on our
own feelings, i is at an end. Hence there ap;
pears a neceſſity f for eſtabliſhing the authori-
ty. of our ſenſes. And here we find full ſa-
tisfaQtion. For, in other caſes, where there
1s. any thing like artifice | in the conduct of
nature, means are afforded, both of diſcover-
ing the truth, and of diſcovering the end, for
which artifice i is made uſe of, to conceal the
apt She never deceives us in vain. But,
in the caſe of external exiſtences, we find
—.— after the ſtricteſt ſcrutiny, but pre-
ſumptions, hypotheſes and fallacious reaſon-
ings, oppoſed to the cleareſt teſtimony, which
* i | nature ,
1 CONCLUSION.
bature can give. Diſperſing with no great
labour, that philoſophic-duſt, which ſceptics
have raiſed about material ſubſtance, we find
it no more difficult to be conceived, than
qualities; both being equally diſplayed to
us, by a peculiar modification of the ſenſe
ef ſight. But belief is not more ſolidly
founded upon our external ſenſes, than upon
our internal feelings. Not the greateſt ſceptic
ever doubted of his own perſonal identity,
continued thro the ſucceſlive periods of life;
of his being the ſame man this year, he was
the laſt: which, however, is a dif covery made
by no reaſoning ; ; reſting wholly upon a
ſimple feeling, or in ward ſenſe and conſciouſ-
neſs of the fact. Upon a like foundation reſts
our belief of cauſe and effect. No relation
is more familiar, nor ſooner takes hold of the
mind, than this. Yet certain it is, that no
reaſoning, no experience, can diſcover the
power or energy of what we term a cauſe,
when we attempt to trace it to its ſource. It
is neceflary Tor the well-being of man, firſt,
chat he ſhould perceive the objects, which ex-
CONCLUSION) 39
i around him; and next, that he ſhould
peredive them in theit true ſtate, not detach-
ed and looſe, but as cauſes” and effects, a8
producing and produced. Nature has fur-
niſhed us with external ſenſes for the percep-
ton of objects, not only as ſimply exiſting,
but as exiſting thus related to each other.
Nor, without fach faculties, could we erer
have attained the idea of cauſe and effect.
The ſame proviſion is made by nature, in an-
other caſe, not leſs remarkable than the for-
mer. Our ſenſes can only inform us of ob-
jects as preſently exiſting. Yer nothing is
more common, than from ' our knowledge
of the preſent,” and our experience, of the
paſt, to reaſon to the future. Now all rea-
ſonings about futurity, which have ſuch ex-
tenſive influence on our conduct, would be
utterly deſtitute of a Kundiibn were we
hot endowed with a ſenſe of uniformity and
conſtancy in the operations of nature. A ſe-
eret inſtinct founds this concluſion, that the
future will be like the paſt. Thus there is
eftabliſhed, a marvelous harmony betwixt our
inwa rd FO and the courſe of external
*7 5 events.
386 CONCLUSION.
events. In the above mentioned inſtances,
ve attribute to our boaſted reaſon, what, in
truth, is performed by ſenſe or inſtinct. With-
out knowing, it to be ſuch, we truſt to it. We |
act upon its informations, with equal confi.
dence, as we do upon the cleareſt concluſi-
ons of reaſon: and, in fact, i it does not oft-
ner deceive us. Nature thus moſt effectu-
ally provides for our inſtruction, in things
moſt neceſſary to be known. But this is not
all. We purſue the argument into a ſort of
intuitive demonſtration of the Deity. He
has not left us to collect his exiſtence from
abſtract or uncertain arguments; but has
made us feel, that he exiſts. When exter-
nal objects are preſented to our view, . ſome
are immediately diſtinguiſhed to be effects,
not by any proceſs or deduction of rea-
ſoning, but merely by ſight, which giyes us
the perception of cauſe and effect. Juſt i in
the ſame manner, this whole world is ſeen,
or diſcovered, to be an effect produced by
ſome inviſible deſigning cauſe. This argu-
ment cannot be invalidated, bent introdu-
eing
CONCLUSION. 387
elng univerſal ſcepticiſm; without overthrow-
ing all that is built upon the feelings, which,
in many capital inſtances, govern our judg-
ments and actions; and without obliging us,
to doubt of thoſe things, of which no man
ever doubted. For, as in viewing an exter-
nal object, a particular modification of the
ſenſe of ſight, includes the idea of ſubſtance,
as well as of quality; as a natural feeling
makes us conceive ſome things as effects, to
be aſcribed to a proper cauſe ; as, from expe-
rience of the paſt, inſtin& prompts us to
judge of the future ; in fine, as, by the feel-
ing of identity, the reader is conſcious of be-
ing the ſame perſon he was when he began
to read: as all theſe concluſions, I ſay, upon
which mankind Teſt with the fulleſt aſſu-
rance, are the dictates of ſenſes external and
internal ; in the very ſame way, and upon the
ſame evidence, we conclude the exiſtence of a
firſt Supreme Cauſe. Reaſon, when applied to,
gives us all its aid, both to confirm the cer-
tainty of his being, and to diſcover his per-
fections. From effects ſo great, and ſo good,
f as
mY CO NGT. vS10 N.
as thoſe we ſee through the univerſe, we ne ·
ceſſarily infer the cauſe to be both great and
good. Mixed or imperfect qualities cannot
belong to him. The difficulties from appa ·
rent evil, are found capable of a ſatisfactory
ſolution. All the general laws of the uni-
verſe, are eonfeſſedly wiſe and good. Pain
is found not to be uſeful only, but neceſſary
in the preſent ſyſtem. . If this be an argu-
ment of an imperfeR ſtate, yet muſt it not
be admitted, that, ſomewhere in the ſcale af
exiſtence, an imperfect order of beings muſt
be found? And why not man ſuch a being ?
unleſs we extravagantly demand, that, to prove
the beneyolence of the Deity, all the poſſible
orders of being ſhould be advanced to the
top of the fcale; and all be left void and waſte
mo no life, no exiſtence allowed, except
what is perfect. The more of nature is
explored and known, the leſs of eyil appears,
New diſcoyerics, of wiſdom, order and good
intention, have always kept pace-with increal-
ing. learning and knowledge: an intimation,
not obſcure, of its being owing to gur im-
* perfect
CONCLUSION, 389
perfect diſcoveries and bounded views, that
evil is ſuppoſed to take place at all. Now,
when we conſider. all theſe things in one
view; ſo many ſtriking inſtances of final
cauſes; ſuch undeniable proofs both of wife
deſign, and skilful execution; in place of in-
dulging cold diſtruſt of the great univerſal
cauſe, are we not raiſed to the higheſt admĩ-
ration! Ts there not ſomewhat in this ſubject,
that has power to kindle a noble enthuſi-
aſm? And that will juſtify us for attempting
a higher ſtrain}
For do not all theſe wonders, O Eternag
« Mind! Sovereign Architect of all! form a
« hymn to thy praiſe? If in the dead inani-
« mate works of nature, thou art ſeen ; if
« jn the verdure of the fields, and the azure
t of the skies, the ignorant ruſtic admires thy
creative power; how blind muſt that man
* be, who, looking into his own nature,
* contemplating this living ſtructure, this
% moral frame, diſcerns not thy forming
* hand? What various and complicated ma.
| chinery
|
|
|
| .
|
| :
|
|
|
|
30% CONCLUSTON:.
* chinery is here! and regulated with what
« exquiſite art! Whilſt man purſues happi-
V neſs as his chief aim, thou bendeſt ſelf-
« love into the ſocial direction. Thou in.
, fuſeſt the generous princi ple, which makes
* him feel for forrows not his own: nor
«feels he only, but, ſtrange indeed! takes
«. delight in ruſhing into foreign miſery ;
« and, with pleaſure, goes to drop the pain-
« ful tear, over real or imaginary woes.
Thy divine hand, thus ſtrongly, drew the
t connecting tye, and linked man to man,
« by a ſympathetic power; that nothing
«© might be ſolitary or deſolate in thy world;
« but all tend and work toward mutual af-
& ſociation. For this great end, he is not
left to a looſe or arbitrary range of will,
© Thy wiſe decree hath erected within him
« 4 throne for virtue. There, thou haſt
e not decked her with beauty only, to his
« admiring” eye; but thrown around her,
«* the awful effulgence of authority divme.
« Her perſuaſtons have the force of a pre-
* cept; and her precepts are a law indiſpen-
ſible,
CONCLUSION, 398
« ſible. Man feels himſelf, bound by this
« law, ſtrict and immutable: and yet the pri-
7 vilege of ſupererogating is left; a field _
« pened for free and generous, action;
« which, performing a glorious courſe, he
* may attain, the high reward, by thee al-
6 * lotted, of . honour and elt-eſti-
10 by ſevere, nothing l t dangerouſly looſe,
\ 6 in thy moral inſtitution; but every active
« principle made to know its proper place.
« In juſt proportion, man's affection diver-
« ges from himſelf to objects around him.
| 6 Where the diverging rays, too widely ſcat-
« tered, begin to loſe their warmth; collect-
« ing them again by the idea of a public, a
6 country, or the univerſe, thou rekindleſt
te the dying flame. Converging eagerly to
« this point, behold how intenſe they glow!
6 and man, tho' indifferent to each remote
« particular, burns with zeal for the whole.
6 All things are by thee pre-ordained, great
« Nover of all! Throughout the wide ex
© < panſe, every living creature runs a deſtin-
ed
%
—
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
39% CONCLUSION.
«ed courſe. Whilſt all, under a law Ifres
& ſiſtible, fulfil thy decrees, man alone ſeems
© to bimſelf exempt; free to turti and bend
« his courſe at will. Tet is he not exenipt:
1 but, under the impreſſion of freedom, mi-
«*niſters, in every action, to thy decree om-
« niponent, as much as the rolling ſun,” or
1 ebbing flood: ' What ſtfange contradic-
tions are, in thy great ſcheme, reconciled ! 1
7 hat glaring oppolites made to agree!
« "Necelity: afd liberty meer it the fame a-
gent, yet interfere not. He imagines
« himſelf free, yet is under the bonds- of
* 5 He diſcovers himſelf to be A
SF p<S ©
« as ke were free. Within the heart of
« man, thou haſt placed thy lamp, to direct
« his otherways uncertain ſteps. By this
« light, he is not only aſſured of the exiſ⸗
« tence, and entertained with all the glo-
« ries of the material world, but is enabl-
« ed to penetrate into the receſſes of nature.
« He perceives objects joined together by
1 « the myſterious link of cauſe and effect.
« 'The
CONCLUSION. 393
« The connecting principle, tho he can ne-
& yer- explain, he is made to feel, and is
& thus inſtructed, how to refer even Things
« unknown, to their proper origin. Nay,
he is taught by thee, to propheſy Things
1 to come. Where reaſon is unavailing,
inſtinct comes in aid, and beſtows à pow-
re er of divination, which diſcovers the fu-
ture, by the paſt. Thus, thou gradually
40 lifreſt him up to the knowledge of thy-
46 ſelf. The plain and ſimple ſenſe, which,
t in the moſt obꝰ ious effect, reads and per-
ceives a cauſe, brings him ſtreight to thee,
u the firſt great cauſe, the antient of days,
e the eternal ſource of all. Thou preſent-
- 4 eft thyſelf to us, and we cannot avoid thee:
&« We muſt doubt of our own exiſtence; if
« we call in queſtion thine. We ſee thee
& by thine own light. We ſee thee, not
« exiſting only, but in wiſdom and in bene-
te yolence ſupreme, as in exiſtence, firſt. As
e ſpots in the ſun's bright orb, ſo in the u-
.< niverſal plan, ſcattered evils are loſt in the
* blaze of ſuperabundant goodneſs, Even,
D d d Ip
*
|
|
|
|
|
394 CONCLUSION.
ee by the reſearch of human reaſon; weak 28
* jt is, thoſe: ſeeming evils. diminiſh and fly
et away apace. Objects, ſuppoſed ſuperflu-
« ous or noxious, have aſſumed a beneficial
« aſpect. How much more, to thine all pe-
« netrating eye, mult all appear excellent
ei and fair l Itmuſt be ſo. We cannot doubt.
Neither imperfection. nor malice: dwell
« with thee.': Thou appointeſt as ſalutary,
« what we lament as painful. What mor-
10 tals term ſin, thou pronounceſt to be ons
« ly error. For moral evil vaniſhes, in ſome
« meaſure, : from before thy more perfect
« ſight; and as, at the beginning of days;
« thou ſawiſt, ſo thou ſeeſt, and pronounc-
eſt ſtil, e _ thou A . 1
92
«6 16 good”. "IT, 7 0 490%
"= 6 3,
A fi w > es
" 19 7
—